


Scarlet Angel

by TheDarkArcher



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: A villainous virus is unleashed in Central City, Aggressive Oliver, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barry Allen is adorable, Barry crying, Barry faints (a lot), Barry is a sweetheart, Barry just wants to help, Big Belly Burger, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bruises, Diggle is worried, Dominant Oliver, Eventual Barry Allen/Oliver Queen, F/M, Gen, Hurt Barry, Love Bites, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Oliver Queen Being an Asshole, Oliver is a monster, Oliver is lonely, Oliver misses Tommy, Oliver needs help, Paternal Joe West, Protective Joe West, Scared Felicity, Sleepy Barry, Unconcious Barry, Vamp!Oliver, dark!Oliver
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkArcher/pseuds/TheDarkArcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, Barry—hang on." a sniffle followed by the sound of Felicity blowing her nose interrupted the line for a moment before he heard her voice again. "Sorry, not sure what came over me just now." she apologized in slightly congested tone. "I heard you answer, and I...just lost it for a second. But...uh, you're probably wondering why I'm calling you and crying and not explaining anything.... It's Oliver, Barry. He's missing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Arrow/Flash story ever, and it's set in an AU, so go easy on me if that's not your thing! 
> 
> Let me know if you like it, I plan to be adding more chapters very soon, and things should get interesting!! As I said, this is my first crossover fic, so any constructive criticism will be appreciated, and as I am currently looking for a beta to call my own, let me know if you're interested!!

Spring had come to Central City, and with it an odd calm. For once the chaotic metropolis was running like a well-oiled machine, and the lull in violence was welcomed with open arms by the young CSI known as Barry Allen. Lately, he'd been craving peace.

He wanted nothing more than a chance to quiet his mind, and to escape from the constant stream of crimes. Now that things had turned uneventful, he figured it was as good a time as any to get away and reconnect with old friends.

Iris and Eddie would be good for a couple of espressos over at Jitters, and he figured that Joe would most likely want to join them, but the more he considered that scenario in his mind, the less appealing he found it.

Sure, it would start out all jovial and easygoing at first, with everyone just sipping on their steaming drinks and engaging in casual banter. But then, things would go south. He just knew it. Topics would change, some being awkward enough to cool off the conversations for awhile until Eddie, of course, would have to go make some romantic gesture or comment to Iris...and everything that followed afterwards would leave only him and Joe to stare uncomfortably into each other's eyes across the table as they both tried to avoid watching the other two making out.

And at that point, the original lighthearted mood would be gone. Well, it would be for him anyway. Nope, a night out with those three definitely wasn't what he needed right now!

Sighing, Barry reached up and scrubbed slender fingers down over his face in frustration. Cisco and Caitlyn were both away having some personal time of their own, and since Wells wasn't exactly uplifting company, that left Barry with just one last viable option.

Felicity.

An image of the pretty, petite blonde popped into his head, making him smile instantly. He missed her musical laughter and the way she just never grasped when it was time to stop talking! He knew her frequent lapses into rambling irritated some of the others, but he couldn't help finding it somewhat endearing.

A furious buzzing in the lower front half of his jacket suddenly interrupted his playback of fond Felicity memories, and Barry quickly wrestled the phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the caller id. The poorly-lit snapshot he'd taken of Felicity months ago was flashing on the screen, right above her number. He grinned widely at this fresh new stroke of good fortune and promptly picked up the call.

"Felicity! I was literally JUST thinking about you! How are you?" he greeted her in a slightly boisterous fashion, his voice coming out a bit louder than what he'd intended. He waited eagerly to hear her voice, but the line stayed oddly quiet, and for a moment, he thought perhaps she had just butt-dialed him or something. He was getting ready to hit the "end call" button when he heard a muffled sob, and the rustling of a Kleenex close to the receiver.

Fear and concern immediately flooded him, and Barry frowned, clicking up the volume button on his phone. "Felicity? Are you ok?"

"Hey, Barry—hang on." a sniffle followed by the sound of Felicity blowing her nose interrupted the line for a moment before he heard her voice again. "Sorry, not sure what came over me just now." she apologized in slightly congested tone. "I heard you answer, and I...just lost it for a second. But...uh, you're probably wondering why I'm calling you and crying and not explaining anything... It's Oliver, Barry. He's missing."

Left stunned into silence by that news, Barry didn't speak for almost an entire fifteen seconds. "What?!" he finally shouted into the receiver, his forehead wrinkling with worry. "For how long, Felicity?"

"A month." she sobbed, her voice muffled by a fresh burst of tears. "I wanted to call you sooner, but Dig kept saying Oliver would turn up when he was ready and...I believed that for the first four weeks, but now I'm just scared, Barry. I think Ollie needs help. He was acting strangely a good two weeks before he vanished, and I got the feeling he was in some kind of trouble...but you know Oliver. He's too damn stubborn to ask for help. Ever."

Barry shook his head vigorously. "I know. Don't worry, Felicity." he answered soothingly. "We'll find him. Just tell me what I can do to help." He waited patiently when he heard her clearing her throat and blowing her nose again. "Thanks, Barry." she finally whispered. "It means a lot to me. Oh—and Diggle—this means a lot to him also! I uh, didn't mean for that to sound weird or anything." she offered him a weak chuckle, catching herself before fell into rambling. "Can you come to Star City tonight?"

 _Of course he could. He would be there in.._.

"Sure. I'll be there as soon as I can! I gotta pack some stuff and let Joe know I won't be home tonight." he explained, hoping she would understand the brief delay. "He won't be too happy if I take off without telling him first."

Felicity laughed a bit, and her voice sounded better this time. "Still in dad mode, huh? I'm surprised he's not trying to give you curfews again since you've moved back home."

"Oh he does." Barry answered jokingly. "On the weeknights I have to be asleep with the lights out by midnight or he shuts off the electric to my room from the hallway fuse box."

"Well in that case, don't let me keep you." Felicity chuckled. "But you can't tell anyone the truth, Barry. Not even Joe. I'm sorry, but no one can know about this yet, you'll just have to improvise a passable story."

"I'm really not good at that stuff!" Barry groaned. "Help me out." There was a brief pause on the line, and then Felicity cleared her throat. "Ok. Moira's throwing another last-minute party, and Oliver invited me to spend the weekend...but um...I'm inviting you because I don't want to go by myself. There. Perfectly packaged cover story." She snickered a little bit before turning serious again.

"Don't be too long, Barry. Diggle and I will be waiting for you here at Verdant. Well, technically we'll be under it...I guess."

Barry tried not to grin. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Talk to you later, Felicity." He hung up the phone and dashed around his small room, tidying up as he threw a couple changes of clothes that he hoped were clean into a duffel bag. When he was sure he'd grabbed everything he might need, he trotted downstairs to the dining room to where Joe was sitting and eating a plate of leftovers while glossing over some old case files.

"Whatcha got there? Stale food and stale cases?" he teased with an impish smile. Joe eyeballed him with a small chuckle and a patient sigh, slowly setting his fork down. "Something I can do for you, Barry?" he rumbled, noticing the bag slung across the young man's shoulder. "Going somewhere?" A light gust of wind suddenly brushed his face, and the surprised detective whipped his head around to follow the zipping sound that raced past him.

Rustling in the cabinets, and clinking sounds coming from the refrigerator in the adjoining room told him all he needed to know before Barry reappeared with an armload of food just as quickly as he'd vanished, and deposited it on the table as he took a seat opposite the other man. Joe stared at the wide assortment with his eyebrows raised. Chocolate pudding, three pb&j sandwiches, two bananas, and a bag of mini marshmallows adorned the space on his son's placemat. "Oh, sorry!" Barry grinned sheepishly, following the man's gaze. "Saw you eating, and it just made me hungry."

 _Oh, that's ...adorable. And not only because he just picked out all the same foods he used to beg me for when he was little_.

West made a low grumbling sound to cover up his urge to turn sappy and sentimental. "Bar, you eat more now than you did when you hit puberty! I don't see where you put it, you're still skinny as a rail." he exclaimed.

"I know!" Barry agreed between a mouthful of pudding. "So, Felicity wants me to spend the weekend with her at the Queens." he interjected, quickly changing the subject to answer Joe's previous inquiry. "Oliver invited her. I guess Moira's throwing another one of her impromptu parties, you know how that goes. I probably won't be back until Monday." He continued stuffing food into his mouth as soon as he'd finished talking.

"Well actually, I don't know how any of that goes." Joe smiled wryly. "But it sounds like a good time, and I'd say you deserve a break! Just don't be late to work Monday morning, you hear me?"

Barry waited until his mouth was full of mini marshmallows before he answered. "Yeah, I hear you, dad!" He snickered, knowing he'd just triggered Joe's pet peeve of people talking with food in their mouths. "I better get going. I'll see you Monday."

"You better." West answered with a hint of playful sternness. "Don't keep the lady waiting, eh? But...be careful, Barry. The Queens aren't exactly safe playmates."

"I'll be careful. I promise." Barry flashed Joe a farewell smile and promptly vanished through the front door leaving his father to clean up after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We are operating off eyesight witnesses on the street who say they've seen him...and the uh...one couple who said he attacked them..." Felicity answered him, pressing her lips into thin line. "I don't believe it, of course—their story. Oliver wouldn't hurt innocent civilians. Ever. That's just not who he is." She paused at the desk where Diggle was sitting, and he looked up to greet Barry with a nod. "Thanks for coming, Barry. Looks like we might have a situation on our hands here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this second chapter! More is soon to come, I swear! This one is a little dialogue-heavy, so my apologies! The next one will be much more exciting!
> 
> Again, comments and polite critiques are greatly encouraged and appreciated, I am fairly new to all this so any love you show me goes straight to muh heart!! xoxo
> 
> Still looking for a beta....I know you're out there. Don't be shy. ;-)

Before he headed for Starling City, Barry made a personal detour to S.T.A.R labs where he hoped he could smuggle the Flash suit out without getting caught by Wells. If he was going to be helping Oliver, or maybe fighting him, he wanted to be in his proper attire. After all, he did have a public image to uphold.

Fortunately for him, the handicapped physicist was nowhere to be found inside the quietly humming facility when he arrived. Not wanting to waste time, Barry dashed over to the display case where Cisco kept all his Flash-related apparel and paraphernalia, and carefully pulled the sleek red outfit off it's stand, folding it up and tucking it into his duffel bag along with the technological marvel that was his mask.

Without waiting to see how long his luck would hold out, Barry zipped everything up in his bag and streaked back out of the labs just as quickly as he'd come in. On to Star City he went, finding that the distance felt even shorter this time at his top-velocity speeds.

_Maybe I'm finally getting faster! That oughtta keep Wells happy for at least twenty-four hours, right?!_

When he finally slowed himself and sparked into visibility near Verdant, Barry noticed Felicity was waiting for him outside the nightclub and not under it as she'd previously stated, but he didn't tease her about it. She looked like she was already on the verge of tears again, so he just ran up and hugged her tightly and told her that everything would be okay.

"I want to believe you. You don't know how badly I just want to believe that." Felicity whispered, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. From the aroma she left behind, Barry could clearly tell she'd taken advantage of her free drinking privileges at the bar while she had been waiting for him.

And in that moment, he badly wished he could've gotten a little sloshed with her, too, because he always felt like such an outsider in situations like these. Forever the bored, designated driver at every party! Super speed was awesome but the permanent hyper-metabolism he was stuck with now just sucked sometimes!  
So he stood there, trying to think of more sympathetic, reassuring things to say that would comfort her, but Felicity grabbed his arm and started hauling him away towards the basement's secure-coded door. "Diggle's downstairs already." she informed him in a hushed tone. "He's been trying to get a bead on Ollie's location with me, but we're having difficulties tracking him."

"What kind of difficulties are you having?" he wondered, watching her blonde head bob as she virtually galloped down the narrow stairs in her high heels. Should she have fallen, he was prepared to catch her, but to his amazement, Felicity managed to reach the bottom step unscathed.

_She must be used to running in those things. She clearly works for Oliver Queen._

"We are operating off eyesight witnesses on the street who say they've seen him...and the uh...one couple who said he attacked them..." Felicity answered him, pressing her lips into thin line. "I don't believe it, of course—their story. Oliver wouldn't hurt innocent civilians. Ever. That's just not who he is." She paused at the desk where Diggle was sitting, and he looked up to greet Barry with a nod. "Thanks for coming, Barry. Looks like we might have a situation in our hands here."

"Hey, no problem! Oliver is a friend, I'd do anything to help him." Barry replied sincerely to Dig before turning back to Felicity. "I don't understand. Why would he be  _attacking_ anyone? What aren't you telling me?" 

He pulled his duffel bag off his shoulder and stuck it down by the foot of the desk while he waited for her to answer.

Felicity sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly as she folded her hands together to keep them from twitching nervously. "About two weeks before Oliver disappeared, he had begun acting pretty strangely. It started with his appetite—he just went off food entirely! Me and Dig, neither one of saw him eat. He lost weight, enough to make Moira ask me if I thought he had turned to drugs. I didn't even know what to tell her! I still don't. His behavior became so erratic after that. He'd only come in to work after dark, and he'd avoid everyone around him, even me and Diggle. He got angry if we tried to talk to him, he even went off on Thea one day when she brought up Tommy. I thought he was going to hit her."

The last part of her sentence ended in a tearful sound, and Felicity quickly looked down at the floor as she tried not to cry. Barry had listened to her in silence, the look of horror on his face growing as she kept talking. "I'm so sorry." he whispered while she paused to collect herself for a moment.

She nodded gratefully at him and looked over at Diggle. "Short version of this very long story is that he came in one day, just as I was leaving, and he took everything. The suit, his bow, all his arrows and gadgets—just bagged them up and carried them out one by one. Didn't speak a word to me. And when he left, that was the last time I saw him."

Barry frowned. "So what's this about him attacking a couple?"

Felicity only shook her head, as if she couldn't dignify it with a response, so Diggle stood up and began explaining. "That was last week." he informed Barry matter-of-factly. "We heard it from Laurel first, because they're trying to keep it under wraps, but I guess two scared teenagers from the Glades showed up at the police station saying a masked man matching Oliver's description had accosted them while they were...engaged in a somewhat compromising activity in their vehicle. Told the cops they were hauled out of the car onto their naked asses by the vigilante who told them they shouldn't have left their doors unlocked if they didn't want to be devoured like the devil's prey." Diggle shrugged his shoulders. "If that guy was Oliver, I guess he did a real number on them because they were taking about demon eyes and vampire fangs before their interview was over."

Barry shook his head in disbelief while his eyebrows quirked up in confusion. "I'm with Felicity. That doesn't sound like Oliver at all." he shook his head again for added emphasis. "Was the couple injured, or just scared? I mean, did the masked guy actually hurt them?" he asked Diggle.

The bodyguard wore a slightly amused expression. "They had a couple scratches, that was it." he answered, trying not to smile. "You can bet they're not gonna head back to that spot anytime soon!"

Barry tilted his head curiously. "Where exactly was that spot?"

                    * * * * * *

Thirty minutes later, he was dressed up in scarlet, sitting in the back seat of Oliver's "company" car with Felicity, as Diggle chauffeured them to their target destination in the Glades. Barry was hoping for some excitement, but all in all it was rather anticlimactic drive through the far less attractive areas of Star city, and once they'd arrived at an abandoned dye factory that Diggle swore was the right place—Barry found himself wondering why anyone would choose a spot like this for... _that_.

"Whoa. This is a seriously ugly parking lot." Felicity commented as everyone stepped out of the car to look around. "There's gotta be better places in the Glades to...." her voice trailed off as she caught Diggle's slightly disapproving glance. "Never mind. That's not why we're here." she quickly added, turning to look at Barry. "Do you think you could...just circle the block a few times, and see if you can catch any signs that Oliver is or was here?"

Stretching his limbs a little, Barry grinned at her. "I can circle as many times as you want, but I'm not sure what I'm looking for exactly. Dead bodies? Arrows sticking out of buildings? I mean, it's not like Oliver is going to make it easy on us if he's actually trying to stay hidden."

"He's got a point." Diggle concurred from where he stood leaned up against the car door. "Oliver is a dangerous, capable man. If we want to play this safe, I say we don't crowd him."

Felicity frowned in contemplation, her mind busily racing to present her with a solution to their current dilemma.

"What if I hang back?" Barry suddenly volunteered, making both Diggle and Felicity stare at him in surprise. "You two drive around the rest of the Glades while I do some stealth reconnaissance here on my own. Dig's right, if Oliver's here, we don't want him to feel cornered."

"That sounds like a plan." Diggle agreed right away, but Felicity wore a hesitant expression. "I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't split up, I mean, how is Barry going to communicate with us if he gets in trouble?" she asked, fretting at her lower lip with her teeth. "I don't have Cisco's access code to the frequency he hard-wired into the ear-bolts on Barry' mask."

Diggle sighed impatiently. "Splitting up gives us the best chance at finding Oliver, Felicity. Don't worry, Barry's a tough guy, he can handle himself if it comes to that."  
Swelling with pride at Diggle's vote of confidence, Barry offered the anxious blonde his most reassuring smile and gave her a gentle hug.

"I'll be fine." he whispered into her ear. "And honestly, it's for the best that we can't communicate, I think. We don't want Oliver to think I'm a threat, or that we're conspiring against him. If he finds me and things aren't...friendly, I'm better off if he knows I wasn't recording or tracking him."

Felicity squared her petite shoulders and took a deep breath. "You're right." she smiled bravely up at Barry before heading towards Diggle and the car. "Good luck, then." she said in a soft, sincere voice. "Be careful, please. If you get hurt or die I will never ever forgive myself, Barry Allen." her lower lip trembled a little, but to her credit, she held back the actual tears. "We'll meet back on this spot in say, two hours?"

"Sounds good. That ought to give you enough time." Barry winked playfully, trying to cheer her up a bit. "Seriously, don't worry, ok? Oliver would never hurt me." he promised with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. "Maybe I can just talk to him as a friend and find out what's going on with him."

"Yeah." Felicity sighed. "If anyone's getting through to him, it's you. Ever since he lost Tommy...well...he's just not been the same. You're a good friend, Barry. And since you're not likely to ever hear this from Oliver, I'll just thank you now on his behalf."

The scarlet speedster flashed his most cherubic smile at Felicity, and tipped an invisible hat to Diggle before he took off, streaking down the abandoned street in a red bolt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash."
> 
> Oliver's icy greeting startled the young man—catching him by surprise, and when startled blue eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, he closed the gap between their bodies in a heartbeat, landing with catlike grace on his feet right in front of the speedster. "You shouldn't be here." He grabbed Barry by the neck, digging rough fingers into the smooth fabric covering his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the third chapter for you, my dears! It's a little rough, and it's only going to get rougher from here, so just a friendly heads-up if that's not your thing, you might want to skip the next couple chapters! 
> 
> Anyway, you know the drill! Comments are like food to my soul, you can never leave too many, I promise! Hope you've enjoy my story so far. Happy reading!

Barry's idea of stealth was to stick to the back alleys, and frequently duck into any open buildings for extra cover as he speed-circled the derelict industrial block looking for any sign of the missing billionaire.

But after fifteen minutes and six hundred trips around the square mile radius, he felt rather sure he hadn't missed anything—and there was no Oliver to be found. Sure, there were countless rats, and raccoons, even the occasional possum ambling around through the trash that littered the streets, but that was as interesting as it got. He was beginning to think they'd wasted their time coming out to the Glades on a dicey story from two high, horny teenagers who may just have likely dropped too much acid and hallucinated their entire experience. Given their obvious lack in better judgement, and no real evidence to back up their account, Barry had to admit that drug involvement was the more believable of the two options.

_Maybe it's that Vertigo again?_

But before he dashed off to the nearest pay phone to dial Felicity and tell her to come back, he decided to make one last run up to the rooftop of the dye mill. From that vantage point he could see the entire industrial park block (it was an eyesore by day but it looked prettier at night with the lights), and he figured if Oliver was still hanging around this section of Star city, he'd be lurking up high, not low. So up to the factory catwalk he went, entertained at how his hyper-speedy steps left behind a strange metallic hum on the rusty steel platform as he zipped across it.

Since everything seemed to slow to a virtual standstill around him each time accessed his speed powers, Barry took advantage of that to the fullest, not missing a single detail of his surroundings. Which is why when he finally halted himself to a stop on the roof, he noticed something had changed. One of the lights on the building opposite him had been shot out. Of that he was positive.

He paused, and stared at the flickering, sparking wires some 40 feet up on the third floor of a nearby warehouse.  
Yeah, he definitely wasn't alone anymore.  
Merging back into superspeed, Barry ran down the outside walls of the dye mill until he reached the ground, and then he promptly dashed up to the warehouse across the street from it, and crashed through the flimsy, half-rusted door that easily gave way beneath his high-velocity force.

Within two seconds he was already up on the third floor section of the empty building—prepared for action.  
It was dusty and dark inside this level, and right on the front wall of the huge room was a large, completely-shattered window that Barry immediately found a little ominous. Nothing but vandals or a rogue vigilante could have caused damage like that up so high.

He frowned and stepped closer to the empty frame, peering out into the empty street below. Everything was quiet. Too quiet...  
Staring into the twilight darkness, and trying to make out shapes in the murky lighting, Barry never heard the soft, stalking footsteps that were rapidly closing in on his position.

Flash."

Oliver's icy greeting startled the young man—catching him by surprise, and when startled blue eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, he closed the gap between their bodies in a heartbeat, landing with catlike grace on his feet right in front of the speedster. "You shouldn't be here." He grabbed Barry by the neck, digging rough fingers into the smooth fabric covering his skin.

Instantly on the defensive, Barry called on his speed to break free of the hand that was cutting off his oxygen, but nothing happened. Oliver's grip on his throat didn't falter in the slightest, and when he started gasping for air, the vigilante lifted him off his feet and sent him tumbling across the room.  
The surprised speedster landed roughly onto his chest some fifteen feet away, and he heard the crack of his ribs fracturing before the pain of it hit him. "Oliver, wait!" he pleaded desperately as the masked man bore down on him with a predatory speed in his gait.

Barry rolled over and sprang to his feet just in time to feel his friend's iron fist slamming into his jaw. His head snapped back from the force of the blow, and for a few seconds everything around him went dark.  
He felt Oliver dragging him up off the floor by the front collar of his outfit, and he blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his sight.  
He stared up into the man's masked visage, and knew right away that something was very very off with his friend. 

For starters, Oliver Queen looked all wrong. The visible parts of his face were a strange hue of pale, and his features seemed thinner, and sharper now, almost gaunt. His outfit still looked crisp and tidy however, and that puzzled Barry. After being awol for a month, where was exactly was the vigilante doing his dry cleaning at? But that was hardly important. What really concerned him was that Oliver seemed significantly stronger than he had been before, despite his somewhere malnourished appearance. That couldn't possibly be a good thing. 

Struggling to breathe, Barry stumbled back unsteadily when Oliver slammed him against the wall—and he winced when his head thudded into rusty metal panels. Expecting a punch to the gut, he was surprised when the fingers around his neck loosened just enough to where their grip wasn't cutting off his oxygen anymore. Relieved, he took a deep breath into his starving lungs, and swallowed thickly to clear the ache from his throat.

"Where the hell have you been??" he finally yelled at Queen, his anger flaring at the man's cavalier attitude. "Felicity is worried sick over you, and I've never seen Diggle so concerned before!" He paused to see if Oliver would have an answer, but when the masked man remained silent, he went on with his scolding."They've been searching for you for over a month, Oliver! A MONTH!"

The billionaire playboy remained broodily quiet, and it both irritated and concerned Barry how he just stood there, breathing deeply and staring at him with an unreadable expression. "What's wrong, Ollie?" he whispered after a few seconds had passed, feeling the deliberate pressure of Oliver's hand still over his throat when he spoke. "Are you sick or something? Why are you hiding out here like this?"  
"Barry..." Queen said his name in turn, voice softer now as he relaxed his hand and stroked his fingertips deliberately down towards the younger man's collarbone, and hooked a calloused thumb under the seam of his mask to to pull it up. "You miss me?"

"Well, it has been a couple months since I—whoa, what are you doing?" Barry protested when he felt Oliver's fingers brushing against his jaw as they firmly tugged at his mask. "Hey! Stop that!" he exclaimed, but the handcrafted fabric was easily lifted away from his face, and when he shot out a panicked hand to grab it back, Oliver hurled the red hood through the shattered window, sending it out of sight within seconds.  
Shocked by this new display of rudeness, Barry turned a heated glare on the other man. "What did you do that for?!" he demanded indignantly. "That mask was Cisco's handiwork! He's not gonna be happy if it's lost now, and I'm the one he's gonna blame!! What the hell has crawled up your butt anyway?"  
Oliver seized his irate young friend by the shoulders, hard enough to wring a low cry of pain from his lips.  
"You're tracking me." he deadpanned. "I don't like that. And if I recall the technical capabilities of your mask, you were carrying a microphone in your ear-piece that can record and transmit any sounds within ten foot radius of you. I _really_ don't like that. If I wanted to be found, or helped, I know where to go!" he growled frostily. "But since I'm not there, you can assume that I want to left be alone."

Barry threw his hands up in frustration. "I wasn't recording you, I swear! Felicity and Diggle don't have access to my mask's frequency." he replied calmly, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. "And I'm only here as a friend. You have a lot of people who are worried about you, Ollie. People who need you. Why don't you tell me what this is all about?"

"Because I doubt very much that you actually want to know the answer." Queen replied quietly, making sure the younger man's arms were pinned securely at his sides before he leaned in closer towards him, and inhaled a lungful of his scent. To Oliver (although he'd never admit it to a soul alive), Barry smelled soothing. His natural aroma was always pleasantly enticing and comforting, like vanilla laced with just the right hint of warm spice.  
The first inhale the vigilante took of him was intoxicating, but with the second, he grimaced when he caught a clashing whiff of Felicity's musky perfume on Barry's face. "Ugh. And of course you reek of her." he snapped irritably, not bothering to explain himself at all when a sculpted eyebrow quirked up at him in confusion. Oliver seemed intently focused as he reached out and stroked his palm against the alabaster velvet of Barry's cheek, moving his fingers in a circular motion to rub away the offensive fragrance that was lingering there."  
"That's better..." he half-growled half-whispered before he suddenly lowered his head and buried his nose into the soft, deliciously fragrant skin just below Barry's ear. Letting out a surprised yelp of sorts, the younger man started trying to pull away from him with a little more gusto.  
"Whoa!! Um, Oliver...a little personal space here?" he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood because he was feeling suddenly very hot and uncomfortable.  
"Hmm?" the masked man's low voice vibrated against his throat, and Barry felt his toes curl inside his shoes for a split second. He noticed an odd weakness in his knees and a tightness in his chest that hadn't been there before. He tried explaining again, but his voice was significantly shakier this time.  
"Well, it's just you're, uh... _you're inhaling_ me, Oliver. And I'm not gonna lie, it's a little creepy!"  
"My bad." Oliver replied in a much colder tone, and Barry shivered involuntarily, grunting a little when he was shoved away just as passionately as he'd been grabbed.  
Something was waaaay off with his friend, and the last thing he wanted to do was add tension to an already volatile situation, so he decided to play it down. "Ohh, uh...it's okay. Forget about it!" he quickly exclaimed, flashing a brilliant smile at the less-than-jovial vigilante.  
"I'm just glad to see that you're still in one piece after all this time."

  
"Is that what it looks like to you?" came the moody, gruff answer from Queen who now stood a few feet away from him with his ropey arms crossed over his chest. "Like I'm all in one piece?"  
Barry was caught off-guard again, this time by the question. He honestly had no idea how to respond to it first.  
"Well no, actually." he finally admitted, watching Oliver with worry in his eyes. "It doesn't. But I'm still waiting for you to tell me what's going on here."

Queen barked out a harsh laugh, and rounded on him with a steely glint in his hazel eyes. "What's going on here is that you are working with Felicity and Diggle, and God-knows-who else to try to bring me back despite my clear intentions to the contrary!" he snarled. "It's not gonna happen, Barry. I can't go back, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I'm done."  
A look of sympathy flickered in Barry's blue eyes, and he stared down at the ground, his long lashes casting a shadow across his cheek in the dim light. "Is this about Tommy, Oliver? You know what happened to him wasn't your fault, right?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still trapped between the wall and the vigilante, Barry was beginning to panic, and he had to force himself to get a handle on it. "Christ, Oliver!" he gasped shakily, trying to calm his racing heart, and even out his panting breaths. "Gotta say, this is weird, even for you."  
> The abnormally strong hands that had previously been pinning his arms were traveling up to his shoulders now, and Oliver gripped him hard enough to leave finger marks under his suit as he shoved Barry roughly back against the wall. "Not as weird as its gonna get." he answered darkly, opening his mouth, and curling his lips up in a wolfish grin so the terrified speedster could watch in horror as long, elegant fangs descended from just behind his friend's canines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your reading pleasure, here is the 4th chapter as promised! It contains a fair amount of Barry-abuse (I know, I am so mean!!)
> 
> There are a few non-con elements to my story which is why I gave it that rating, but for anyone who's concerned, there is no actual rape. 
> 
> The next chapter will also contain some harsh themes so I will give a heads-up to that now.  
> Thanks so much to everyone who is reading and commenting or leaving kudos! You guys are the best and you make my day! 
> 
> Also, am I going to have to kidnap a beta??

At the mention of his deceased friend's name, Oliver saw red. He wasn't sure why it enraged him to that extent. Maybe it was because he felt no one had the right to know or understand the depth of love he had felt for Tommy, and he couldn't bear to be reminded of the enormous hole his best friend's death had left on his heart and in his life. Or maybe it was the way Barry's innocently-spoken words had unforgivably hit home with him?  
Oliver knew the truth. Tommy's passing was a loss he would never recover from, and of course he blamed himself! The pain he felt over it was unbearable, so he deployed deep-seated anger to cover his wounded psyche seamlessly, and almost subconsciously now.

He never remembered backhanding Barry across the mouth, but results didn't lie. He paused when the speedster's eyes widened in shock as blood started to run down his chin from a sizeable cut on his lower lip. And that's when Oliver realized his hand was still raised to hit him again. He dropped it quickly, and stepped back, thinking he ought to hate himself when he saw tears welling up in Barry's eyes.  
He shook his head, and sighed heavily. "Look, just...don't ever talk to me about Tommy, okay? Don't say his name. That topic is permanently off-limits for the rest of eternity, understand?"

"Yeah. I understand." Barry whispered, reaching up to wipe the blood from his mouth. "Sorry. I guess I had no right to ask you about it. I just want to help you, Ollie. We all do."

_Again with the savior complex? Really?_

He clenched his jaw in aggravation at his scarlet friend's stubborn persistence. "After all the suffering, the destruction, and deaths my family—and I caused, I don't believe I deserve anyone's help right now, Barry." he replied coldly. "And there's a reason why I'm staying away. It's just not what you think."  
"Everyone has a right to be helped, Oliver. Even you." Barry whispered. "What your parents did, what Malcolm did—that's not on you! You are a hero! You help people—you protect them! I wouldn't be here if I thought otherwise."

"No." came a low, deadpan reply from the brooding billionaire. " _You don't get it_. If you understood the implications of what you're offering me right now, you'd run your scrawny ass back to Central City without a moment's hesitation."  
Barry looked briefly offended at his use of the word "scrawny". "Am not..." he muttered under his breath. "And no, I wouldn't! Why would I leave you?"

"You would." Oliver repeated matter-of-factly. "Which is why I'm not gonna tell you more." he went on in his low, husky tone. "Because I can't seem to control this—whatever's affecting me, and you're the only one I can't hurt by it. Well, permanently hurt, anyway."  
Barry's blue eyes widened again, "What? Why does anyone need to get hurt?!" he demanded, staring at Queen's masked face in worried confusion. "Look, just tell me what's affecting you! If it's some foreign virus or exotic toxin, Wells and Caitlin can probably cure it, I think—"

Oliver couldn't take it any more. The selfless concern, the pure sincerity...  
No one as bloodstained as he was deserved such devotion and admiration from someone like Barry Allen. It was time to show his true colors—to make the overeager CSI understand exactly who he was dealing with now.

"Fine! I accept your help, Barry." he suddenly growled, cutting him off mid-sentence. "So, instead of us standing here talking about it, I think I'll just take it while the taking's good."  
The initial smile that enveloped Barry's angelic features turned to an expression of mild confusion.  
"But...I didn't bring anything for you to take." the younger man responded helplessly. "We'll have to go to S.T.A.R. labs if we want any answers."  
While eyeing the most prominent vein throbbing in his friend's neck, Queen leaned in slowly towards his intended prey. "Yes you did." he answered in a sinfully pleased voice that made the hairs on Barry's arms prickle. "And, no, we won't."  
The speedster squirmed nervously under the intense gaze upon him.  
"Oliver?" he whispered, his voice and body trembling with agitation. "What are—?"  
"Shhhh." With his lips just millimeters away from a rather delectable throat, Oliver Queen smiled a brief, wicked little smile to himself over what was about to happen next. Then, without further ado, he opened his mouth wide and latched onto a patch of the speedster's silky skin, eliciting a sound from him that he was pretty sure no one had ever heard before.

Barry's initial yelp of surprise at the sudden, unexpectedly-intimate contact soon turned into a  breathless moan when the vigilante began sucking a mark onto his creamy flesh.  
A rush of heat pooled in the pit of Oliver's stomach as he heard the younger man's breath hitching sharply, and felt the friction of him fruitlessly writhing for escape against his thigh. He continued to taste the flawless skin under his tongue and savored the raw fear he felt in the wildly beating pulse beneath his lips.

Still trapped between the wall and the vigilante, Barry was beginning to panic, and he had to force himself to get a handle on it. "Christ, Oliver!" he gasped shakily, trying to calm his racing heart, and even out his panting breaths. "Gotta say, this is weird, even for you."  
The abnormally strong hands that had previously been pinning his arms were traveling up to his shoulders now, and Oliver gripped him hard enough to leave finger marks under his suit as he shoved Barry roughly back against the wall. "Not as weird as its gonna get." he answered darkly, opening his mouth, and curling his lips up in a wolfish grin so the terrified speedster could watch in horror as long, elegant fangs descended from just behind his friend's canines.

"You're thinking about running now, aren't you?" he asked with a cold smile. "I told you as much." Oliver shook his hooded head resolutely at his cornered captive. "Sorry. It's too late for that now, Barry." he whispered, and promptly buried his sharp fangs with viper-like precision into the tender flesh beneath his lips. A hoarse scream tore from Barry's lungs when the cruel teeth sank into his throat, and Oliver knew he had pierced his targeted vein when rich, salty-sweet blood gushed eagerly out over his tongue.

He fought down the urge to moan in frenzied delight at how delicious Barry tasted. He was famished for blood, and had been for months, but when a ragged sob caught his ear he quickly remembered that he wasn't trying to inflict more pain than was absolutely necessary.  
With care, he extracted his fangs from Barry's neck, and used only his lips and tongue to continue steadily drawing out the nourishing flow.  
Barry could hear Oliver swallowing his blood with reckless, savage hunger, but when he tried to struggle free again, his body just wouldn't cooperate.  
Tears were spilling from his eyes—and he couldn't stop them because all of his focus was on resisting the light, floaty sensation that had begun to overtake his body as he grew lax in the other man's rigid arms. A low, plaintive whimper escaped his lips. "Oliver, stop!" he gasped."You're hurting me!!" A strange warmth went rushing to Barry's head now, sending tiny prickles of heat throughout the rest of his body while darkness began to creep into his vision.  
He was barely able to stay on his feet at this point, but it was only a few seconds later when Oliver mercifully let up off his throat.

With steady hands, Queen held the drooping young man in a grip of steel and forced himself not to look away from the soulful blue eyes framed in long lashes that were blinking slowly up at him as he held the barely conscious speedster around the waist to keep him from falling.  
He felt like he ought be showering his scarlet-clad victim with soothing caresses now, and filling his perfect ears with words of comfort. He even wanted to say he was sorry, but he didn't. Instead, he became so mesmerized by watching tears and blood mingling together on ivory skin that he just stood there until both were running together down Barry's neck in dark trickles. And then the pleasant waves of sated hunger washed over him, temporarily drawing him into a trance-like state. In that moment all he could think of was the beast inside him, feeling it bask in the heat of fresh blood. It's primal hunger had calmed now, but it was gaining new strength nonetheless, and he knew it was just a matter of time before he became that monster entirely.

"I'm...I–can't—" Barry gasped faintly, feeling the world spinning much too quickly around him despite the solid, unmoving grip he was trapped in. He couldn't see straight anymore, everything was going fuzzy and gray around the edges. And it was getting so hard to breathe. "Wh–what did you do...to me??" he cried hoarsely, throwing the last reserves of his energy into a herculean effort to pull free of the vigilante who was momentarily too caught up in the blissful after-effects of a feeding to notice him.  
His victory was short-lived however, when he broke away only to collapse after walking another four or five steps. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, and Queen's head immediately turned to look in his direction.  
With his feral bloodlust pacified for the present, Oliver was beginning to see the world through a less-red filter. Inhaling deeply to clear the bloodmist from his eyes, he focused his keen gaze on Barry Allen, who was belly down on the cold concrete now, trying to crawl away from him.

Without thinking, he raised his sturdy boot and promptly shoved it down between the retreating speedster's shoulder-blades, pinning him to the floor. "Where do you think you're going?" he growled possessively, dropping down over Barry to flip him onto his back.

"Please..." the younger man's voice was so weak it was barely audible now. Barry couldn't see well enough make out Oliver's face anymore, but when he reached up and found it, he brushed his soft fingertips against the coarse stubble covering the billionaire's jaw. "I still believe in you, Ollie." he whispered, slipping into darkness with his cheek coming to rest on the icy floor.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do I look like a blind man from the 90's? Did Oliver...put these on me?! Where the hell is my suit??!
> 
> Doing his best to breathe through the panic and nausea rising in his stomach, the young man made a sweeping glance around the strange room, taking in the details of his surroundings.  
> He was lying on an immaculately clean, and very expensive mattress, clearly brand new—but the floor beneath it was caked in years of filth.
> 
> So I'm still in the Industrial Park...I think.
> 
> Good. That was one clue (sort of) to go on. Now to ditch the chains.

 Barry came to with a panicked jolt, and he instinctively attempted to dart up off of whatever it was he felt himself lying on. But he didn't get very far before the loud snap-rattle of heavy chains being stretched to their limit startled him. And it was only when he was propelled back down that he realized he was attached to these chains by metal shackles that were clamped securely around both his wrists, and that they were anchored to a spot on the wall above his head. 

And...apparently he wasn't wearing his Flash suit anymore. A Hawaiian shirt that was far too heavily themed with purple adorned his slender torso while a pair of dated corderoy cargo pants covered his lower half. That alone sent his blood pressure skyrocketing for a moment.

_Why do I look like a blind man from the 90's? Did Oliver...put these on me?! **Where the hell is my suit??!**_

Doing his best to breathe through the panic and nausea rising in his stomach, the young man made a sweeping glance around the strange room, taking in the details of his surroundings.  
He was lying on an immaculately clean, and very expensive mattress, clearly brand new—but the floor beneath it was caked in years of filth.

_So I'm still in the Industrial Park...I think._

Good. That was one clue (sort of) to go on. Now to ditch the chains.

He closed his eyes and focused on channeling his speed powers to vibrate his molecules, hoping to simply phase his wrists free. But like a car engine sputtering out and failing to perform, Barry felt a huge amount of energy leaving his body at what he thought to be an inconsequential exertion, and within seconds he was far too weak to do anything but collapse back onto the soft mattress, panting for air.

_Well...shit._

 A thumping sound outside the door to—wherever he was, caught his attention and made him go still for a moment. Someone was sliding a key into the lock on the doorknob.

He scrambled backwards on the mattress as the door swung open, unsure of what to expect.  
He almost laughed in relief when a short, aging man with a pronounced limp in his left leg shuffled into the room, bearing an armload of Big Belly Burger bags and a couple bottles of water.

"Hey...you're awake." the stranger announced cheerfully. He had a coarse southern accent to go along with his messy attire and unkempt hair. "You didn't move for a long time. I thought you mighta died."

Barry stared at him. "Who are you, where am I?"

"Oh, pardon my lack of manners!" the old man exclaimed. "My name's Jack, and you're in the Glades Industrial Park—well, the non-functional side of it anyway. My other place got blown sky high when those bombs went off six months ago, so I sorta live here now...when pretty folks like you ain't getting in my space."

"This is your space?"

Jack nodded wordlessly and grinned at him. He was missing several teeth and overall, it was not a pleasing look.

Of course. Barry saw it now—the disheveled clothes, the months-old facial hair...the faint reek of animal urine. Jack was homeless, and Barry was apparently in his only place of abode, although none of that explained why he'd been deposited there.   
He narrowed his eyes at the old man. "How did I get in here? Did you chain me up?" he demanded.

"Do I look like the kinda guy who could manage that?" Jack snorted in disdain. "I never laid a finger on you, Red! That was all him. Well...I guess I mighta touched your arm a little, just to feel how soft you were when he was putting them other duds on you."

Barry stared at him in revulsion.

"...and boy if you ain't made out o' velvet..." Jack's voice had taken on a decidedly pervy quality now, and Barry grimaced further in disgust. "Please shut up." he whispered, earning himself another salacious grin from the old man, who quickly added; "But then your boyfriend threatened to rip my throat out with his bare hands if I left another fingerprint on you or the mattress while you were under this roof." Here the vagrant's eyes took on a slightly terrified look as he glanced nervously around the small room. "I kinda like my throat where it's at. You're awful pretty, but you ain't worth death, so don't worry." Another gap-toothed grin flashed. "I'm only here to make sure you eat."

Jack dumped the fast food bags down on the bed in front of Barry. "He said you won't be able to leave unless you eat first."  
"He?" Barry prompted. Jack grinned again, more lewdly this time. "Your boyfriend—the guy in the hood with the mask! Gotta say, I took him for a lady's man after our first encounter! Guess you're never too old to learn something new!"

Barry scowled. "That _douchebag_ **jerkface** in the mask is not my boyfriend!" he snapped as if that was the most insane and insulting suggestion ever made to him.  
"Well, now who you screw ain't none of my business, Red." Jack shrugged. "But if you gonna let 'em leave marks all over that pretty throat o' yours, you might wanna invest in some turtleneck sweaters. Just sayin'."

Clapping a hand up to the spot on his neck where Oliver had bitten him, the speedster flushed red at Jack's mention of the mark there, and he winced at how tender his flesh was still. Under any other circumstances, an injury like that would have healed by now, and it worried him that this one wasn't.  
He also wanted to loudly and repeatedly deny that any "screwing" had taken place, but as he stared at the smirk growing on Jack's face again, he realized the man would only think he was "protesting too much".

An awkward moment of silence passed, and Barry finally cleared his throat. "Why do you keep calling me Red? Do...you—do you know who I am??" Another flash of panic sparked in his chest. Had Oliver given away his identity, too?  
"Now how the hell would I know a thing like that—a guy like me??" Jack fixed him with an incredulous look. "Call you Red cuz that's what you were wearin' when Hoodman brought you in here all slung across his shoulders." He snickered a little, but then his face grew serious. "Now, you ain't little, but I want you to know he carried you like you didn't weigh an ounce! Never seen nothin' like it my whole life!"

"Great. That's great. I don't suppose you'd tell me what he did with my... _red clothes_ , or what I'm doing chained to the wall?" 

Jack sighed and started pulling wrapped-up hamburgers out of the bags, and Barry's gut instantly recoiled at the sickeningly strong smell of grease and undercooked meat.

"Look, I didn't ask too many questions, okay?" the vagrant man replied quietly. "But I know that hood guy—so I trust him. He saved me from some street hooligans a few months ago, and now I do him the occasional favor as a token of my gratitude. I offered him something else before that...but that's why I've got this limp." Jack stared at his left thigh thoughtfully for a moment before he looked back at Barry with devious chuckle. "His loss though, y'know. I'm a _very generous_ lover."  
  
"Ugh! Please. Stop. Talking!" the trapped speedster groaned, chains clinking like chimes as he raised his hands and briefly buried his face in them. Jack shrugged at Barry's obvious lack of enthusiasm or enjoyment in his story-telling and went on anyway. "Well, as I was sayin', so when he came and found me a couple hours ago—just dropped outta the sky like he always does—he told me I could keep that plush bed you're laying on right now if I let him keep you in here until you woke up. So I said yes. Obviously."

The scruffy hobo started avidly peeling the paper off of a plump, steaming burger, and this time when Barry caught a waft of that overwhelming smell, his insides lurched violently. There was nowhere for him to go and no way to hold it in, so he turned his head away from Jack and proceeded to throw up off the side of the mattress. Well, he was trying to keep it off the bed, but he could see splashes of vomit dotting the white pillow-top when his stomach was finally empty.

Feeling dizzy, sweaty, and shaky now, Barry wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and glanced over at Jack who was gazing at him in horror. "You threw up on my mattress, Red!" he groused, rushing over and dropping to his knees beside the mess on it and the floor. "How'd you like it if I barfed all over your bed?! Huh??" Using napkins out of the Big Belly bags, he worked hurriedly to wipe what vomit he could off the elegantly textured white fabric. "Sorry." Barry whispered, his head drooping forwards as it suddenly became too heavy for his neck to support. "Couldn't help it." Extreme fatigue was rolling over him in heavy, stifling waves now, and there wasn't a whole lot he could do to stop it. He didn't have the strength to.

"Hey! HEY!" Jack was yelling at him, Barry could see him gesturing wildly and moving his mouth but his voice sounded so distant and hollow. "Don't you pass out! He'll kill me!! He will! Here, look Red, you gotta eat. Hoodman said so. That's how come I brought all this food. I hear you can eat like fifty of these in a day. That right?"

 He held out an unwrapped burger, offering it to the near-fainting man with sheer panic showing all over his face. "Here!"

Barry shook his head and pulled back right before the aroma made him gag. "I–can't, I just—the smell of it makes me feel so sick..." he muttered, growing dizzier with each passing second until he slowly collapsed face down on the bed, the chains clattering to rest beside him.

"No no no, Red! Aw, shit!" Jack hovered helplessly at the edge of the bed knowing he wasn't allowed on it. And he sure as hell wasn't supposed to putting a hand—not even a helpful one—on the sculpted young man sprawled across it.  
So he had a bit of a dilemma for a few moments, but he soon settled for repeatedly tugging on Barry's wrist chains, in an attempt to rouse him.

When that didn't work, he very cautiously grasped the speedster's shoulder, and turned him onto his back. "Hey, Red! Wake up!" he clapped his hands loudly over Barry's face, hoping to get a reaction and frustratingly receiving none. Feeling the urge to investigate further, Jack cast a quick glance around the room to make sure he was still alone before he reached down and gently tipped the man's head to the side, examining the lurid bruise right over his jugular.

"The hell...?" he exclaimed softly, seeing the fang marks inside it now, clear as day. "What in God's name did that Hoodman do to you, pretty boy??" he stroked his thumb sympathetically over the injury, and winced inwardly when blood immediately welled up out of the twin punctures and coated the bottom of his finger. "Oh shit! That ain't no regular love bite now...damn!" he muttered in shock.  
Barry quivered slightly and started coming to again, most likely brought back into reality from the effects of Jack's prodding.  
The nervous vagrant slowly backed away from the mattress and realized he needed to come up with plan B—and soon—before _Hoodman_ came back and saw he hadn't taken proper care of his captive.

The water bottles were on the floor by the foot of the mattress, and Jack scrambled to grab one and twist the cap off. He splashed a little onto Barry's ghost-pale face to aid in waking him, and helped him sit up as he started becoming more lucid. "Wh's...going on?" the speedster sounded delirious when his eyes flickered open, but he greedily accepted water from the bottle Jack held to his lips. 

"You fainted. Like a pregnant woman. Over a damn hamburger." the derelict old drifter replied with a short laugh. "Drink up." He passed the bottle into Barry's hands and stepped back to give him some room. "That's good." he encouraged when the young man managed to drain the entire bottle. "You want some more?"

He was already reaching to open a second bottle but Barry nodded his approval anyway. Yes, water was much, much better than burgers! Maybe he would be able to use his speed once he had hydrated a little?

He snatched the second water bottle from Jack and guzzled the clear fluid down greedily, gaining a concerned look from the hobo. "I saw your neck. Why'd you let him do that to you? Some kind of kinky near-death sex thing?"

Barry ignored him and kept on drinking. He was so thirsty, he felt as if he could devour a lake.

"You still have to eat." Jack was talking again, and the timbre of his voice was really starting to slowly fray the edges of the speedster's nerves. Deep down Barry felt the nagging sensation that Jack was probably right.

"I hear you got some kinda unique abilities of your own. Ones that require a huge input of sustenance to use. I think if you want out of here, you're gonna have to eat. So, I'm gonna leave you to it. I don't exactly enjoy the idea of getting my throat ripped out for touching you...so, I'm outta here for now. Good luck, Red."

Pushing at least seven burgers within Barry's reach, Jack flicked him a little salute and then limped out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him. The chained-up man watched him leave, and then proceeded to just glare at the food in front of him for a good five minutes before he decided just to get it over with. There was clearly no other way he could get out, he _needed_ speed.

The first mouthful was awful—the burgers were cold now with a somewhat congealed, soggy texture, and Barry wished he'd eaten then when they were still hot. As it was, it took him a couple tries before he could keep the greasy bites down. He was relieved that Jack was gone now, and couldn't yell at him for throwing up again like a pregnant, squeamish woman! After his fifth BBB, he knew he physically couldn't stomach another unappetizing swallow, and he hoped desperately that he'd eaten enough to charge his powers. Only one way to find out!

Closing his eyes, and forcing himself to calmly focus on his speed, Barry knelt on the mattress and slowly began to pull against his bonds as his body began to vibrate rapidly until his outline was nothing but a blur. He knew he couldn't keep it up for long, so he tried to guesstimate what frequency he needed to hit before he could phase out of the shackles. He sped up just a little more, feeling the rapid drain of energy that followed, but as he continued to gradually vibrate faster, his wrists suddenly flew free from the metal cuffs and he stumbled forward off the bed, nearly face-planting onto the floor.

"Whoa!" he gasped shakily, reaching out to steady himself on the back of an old generator. When he was fairly confident that he wouldn't topple over again, Barry used his speed to vibrate the lock out of the door, which clattered noisily onto the ground. He didn't waste time trying to put it back—Jack was going to have to repair that on his own.

Still unsure of where his suit was, the exhausted speedster was torn between his desire to search for it or to just head back to Central city. He knew he didn't have stamina to accomplish both, and that he was likely a dead man if he didn't make it home before the lowlifes began to flood the evening streets. 

But then again, he was a dead man if Cisco and all the others found out he'd taken it in the first place! 

_Joe is going to kill me. Ohhh, man he is gonna be so pissed with me!_

Barry knew didn't have much of a choice, and in the end he decided he'd rather take his chances with angry friends and family over the Glades' thugs.

By the time he'd made it back to Central City, he was feeling like death itself.  


The Big Belly Burger meal he'd forced himself to consume had given him enough strength to make it back home, but when he brought himself to a halt on the curb outside Joe's house, he barely had enough time to reach the gutter there before the remaining contents of his stomach were forcefully ejected back out through his esophagus.  
Trembling and miserable, Barry rode out the waves of purging the best he could, grateful that he was at least somewhat obscured from view, and not up on Joe's front lawn! When at last his stomach came to a standstill, the pale young man lurched his way up onto the porch and stumbled over to Joe's front door, grasping at the handle with shaky fingers to pull it open.  
He jumped back in surprise when it flew open to reveal Eddie on his way out.

"Oh hey, Barry!" Thawne greeted him cordially, but with a somewhat startled expression. "Didn't expect to see you here! Joe said you had plans to spend the weekend with Felicity at the Queens? And, I'll tell you, Iris is more than a little jealous!"  
Fighting off another wave of nausea, Barry forced a smile and tried not to clutch his stomach. "Ohh, right. Yeah, well there was a change of plans." he shrugged carelessly. "I'm staying home."  
Eddie nodded and smiled back, clearly unsure of how to react. "Okay. Well, Iris is waiting for me at Jitters. I'm going to pick her up and get everyone some Thai for dinner, since that's what Joe wants, and I was outvoted by them again." he grimaced a little. "But you're welcome to join us, I'll get extra!"

Barry's stomach lurched sickly at the thought of eating again. "Oh no, thanks, but I already ate!" he replied quickly, hoping the topic would be dropped.  
Thawne shrugged, and nodded, starting to walk away for a moment before he paused and turned around with a more concerned look on his face. "Hey, you ok, Barry? You look a little pale. Make that _pale-green_. Hangover?"

The young man smiled unconvincingly. "Oh, I'm fine. Yeah, just uh...sushi, y'know. Gotta watch where you eat that stuff."

He ducked into the house and disappeared before Eddie could ask any more questions, but he didn't make it to the stairs in time before Joe walked out of the kitchen and saw him. "Bar! What are you doing back here? What happened to your night out at Verdant with Felicity?" The detective's voice was laced with a note of surprise.  
Not wanting to arouse suspicion or alarm Joe, Barry attempted to play it smooth. "It wasn't working." he lied in a kicked-puppy sad tone. "She's only got eyes for Oliver and things just got kinda..."  
"Awkward?" Joe offered with an understanding nod, and a raised eyebrow that meant tell-me-more.  
Barry stared down at his shoes. He didn't want to have to elaborate on his cover. He wasn't exactly the world's best liar, and he usually ended up confusing himself when he fabricated details beyond the scope of his short-term memory.

"Yeah...it was." he answered quietly, figuring a simpler response would seem more legitimate. Joe made a sympathetic sound. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Bar. I know how much she means to you."  
"It's okay." The young man trailed after his adoptive father as he stepped off into the den to straighten it up a little before Iris got back. "Hey Joe, can I ask you something?"  
"Of course you can." the detective answered quickly, turning around  
If he noticed the pallor or fatigue in Barry's face, he didn't mention it. He just stood there, patiently waiting for him to speak.  
Aware that he needed to start talking, the younger man cleared his throat and did his best not to think about how he felt like throwing up again. "You've had a lot of partners in your years as a cop." he began slowly. "Guys who you needed to trust had your back, no matter what, right?"  
Joe nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. If you can't trust your backup, you can't do your job."  
"But what if your partner had a horrible secret, one that would...very negatively impact their career, and what if you found out about it?" Barry wondered, resting his forehead in his hand for a moment. "Would you keep it, or tell it?"  
Joe stared at him keenly. "That depends. If their secret was a covered-up crime, I'd be obligated to tell it. But...if it was something personal...I'd say I'd use my better judgement at that point."  
"Right." the younger man nodded. "So then what if their secret say...hurt you? Or made you trust them less, and maybe even scared you? Would you tell anyone about it then?"  
"I might." Joe raised his eyebrow again. "Chances are I'd just find me a new partner if it came to that. But, I guess it really all would come down to how much trust I placed in that person to start with. I've met a lot of folks with skeletons in their closets, Bar, but that doesn't mean they are terrible people. It just means they're human. Life happens, mistakes get made...you do the best with what you're given. And if you've got a partner who's always had your back no matter what—then I'd say keeping their secret is a small price to pay in return." Joe straightened up and offered his adoptive son a curious, and slightly apprehensive expression.

"Look, Barry, is this your way of trying to tell me something about Eddie? Because if it is, I—"

"God, no! It's not Eddie!" Barry shook his head vigorously to enforce his statement. "Nothing like that! I just needed some advice for...a friend." he smiled suavely. Joe nodded and smiled back, stepping closer towards him. 

"Well, I hope that helped." he said gently. Barry felt a sudden urge to cry. He wasn't sure why, but all of his mixed emotions suddenly seemed amplified by a thousand percent. Maybe it was the sheer and utter exhaustion he felt in his body, or the debilitating betrayal that was haunting his mind, but in that moment he felt as if he were losing his grip. Swallowing back on stinging tears, Barry ignored the following ache in his jaw and he forced his emotions to remain hidden.

"Of course it did. Thanks, dad." he whispered, his voice just a little huskier than normal. West couldn't hide the beam of happiness and pride in his eyes whenever Barry called him "dad". Sometimes he felt as if he lived just for those rare moments, because as infrequent as they were, nothing else really compared it. And right now, he just wanted to hold his son.  
"C'mere."

He opened his arms, inviting the lad into an embrace that was eagerly accepted. Barry nestled his head wearily against the detective's shoulder, and Joe smiled fondly, trying not to chuckle at how endearing he found it. He couldn't remember the last time the young man had done that—come to think of it, he didn't recall a time when Barry had ever melted so desperately into a hug like the way he was now. Figuring the kid was probably just physically and emotionally exhausted, Joe didn't hesitate to hold him a little tighter, bringing up a strong hand to gently cup the back of his head. "Bar...You okay?" he murmured questioningly, combing his fingers soothingly through tufts of soft brown hair.  
And then it happened.

Barry let out a low whimper and went slack in Joe's arms, weary blue eyes falling shut behind his upswept lashes. When the detective felt his lanky burden suddenly growing heavy, worry flared in his chest. He tried to gently stand him up, but Barry only slumped farther against him, and within seconds Joe was holding 180 lbs of dead weight. Quickly readjusting his grip on the young man so he wouldn't drop him, he frowned when Barry's head rolled limply across his shoulder and came to rest beside his cheek.

"Hey, now!" he exclaimed softly. "What's wrong, baby?!" He pressed a light kiss onto his son's pale forehead, but Barry didn't react to the paternal caress at all, and Joe was grateful the couch wasn't far as he wrapped his arm more snugly around the kid's slender waist, and cradled the back of his neck in a supportive hand so his head wouldn't loll. "I got you, Bar. It's okay." he whispered, maneuvering him across the carpet a few steps and easing the unconscious lad down onto the plush sofa. "Here we go."  
He elevated Barry's legs over a few cushions, and hurriedly pressed several fingers to the pulse point on his pale throat. He frowned, noticing a light-colored bruise there, and not liking how thready and weak the heartbeats felt. He didn't know what was wrong with his son, but he was willing to guess it wasn't something as simple as a skipped meal this time. He didn't much care for Harrison Wells, but maybe it was time to call him. Barry's life was far more important to him than his ongoing disagreement with the crippled physicist.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the delay in updates!! Life happened—the sucky kind. :-/ Anyway, I trust you've forgiven me and accepted this extra-long chapter as my penance!
> 
> Thanks for all the new kudos and comments, I LOVE hearing from you, and the sad truth is—if you don't comment or kudo—I won't ever know if you actually liked my story (and that is torture for writers!!!!) so keep it coming!! You guys are the best! xoxo
> 
> Also, one word—BETA!! Someone's got to feel sorry for me having to correct my own typos 24/7 right???


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls are made all around, and Barry eventually gets some assistance from certain Team-Flash members.

Harrison Wells was currently having a rather uneventful day. Not even his pet AI, Gideon, had anything new or exciting to show him, and with the labs empty save for himself, he realized it wasn't all that fun doing this job without the others. Caitlin had left him instructions on the specific mealtimes and nutritional needs for each of their meta-human prisoners, but it had already taken him until afternoon just to dispense their breakfasts—and he figured if they wanted their supper, lunch was forfeit. He didn't understand how Snow did this job every day without batting an eyelash. He found that kind of work to be soul-crushingly tiresome to his psyche.  
But alas, he didn't have many other places to go, and he honestly didn't trust the labs to anyone else, so he stayed there despite himself. At least here, tinkering around with the tools of his trade brought him some small measure of satisfaction.

It also pleased him to know that he was giving Caitlin and Cisco a well-deserved weekend break. He figured a little absence from the workplace would breed some extra fondness in their hearts for S.T.A.R labs, and it also meant they'd come back refreshed and eager to pick up the slack—which suited him just fine.

By the time evening had come to Central city, the chair-bound physicist found himself appreciating the peace of his solitude, and he began to experience a happy, inventive mood. He wanted to create something; which is why he was surprised, and a just a little aggravated, when his phone rang—startling him and making him drop the rather delicate vial of chemicals he'd been holding.

_Shit! Glad Cisco wasn't here to see that! He'd never let it go. "Butterfingers Wells", I can hear him now..._

He had left his cell sitting on the desk across the room, and he grumbled impatiently under his breath as he wheeled his chair off in that direction.  
"All right, all right!" he huffed at the loud, persistent chiming of the ringtone. "I'm coming!"  
When he'd gotten within arm's length of his phone, he reached out and snatched it up, staring curiously at the number on his caller id.

 _Joe West, huh? Well, this night just got more interesting_.

"Harrison Wells." he answered the call in his usual aloof, measured tones.  
"Yeah, hi, Doctor Wells!" the voice on the other end sounded slightly frantic, and Harrison frowned. Joe was not typically a frantic sort of man.  
"Detective West. What can I do for you?"

"Right now, Doctor, all I want to know is if the Flash suit is still there in the labs with you?"

_What? Why on earth wouldn't it be?_

_"_ I believe it is." Harrison answered, curious as to what brought about this odd phone call. "Would you like me to go check?" he inquired helpfully.  
"If you'd be so kind." replied Joe, and Wells smiled a bit even though he was beginning to feel some faint stirrings of worry now. "Of course." He began moving his chair towards the hallway that let out into their main room of operations. "If you don't mind my asking, detective, do we have a reason to think Barrys suit is gone?"  
There was a brief pause on the line, and then Joe cleared his throat a little hesitantly. "Just testing a hunch—and hoping I'm wrong." he answered quietly. The physicist had reached the end of the slightly curved hall now, and the display case for Cisco's beloved suit was dead ahead. Wheeling closer, Harrison could see that inside, fitted on it's mannequin—was every piece of the scarlet outfit—mask and all.  
"Yeah, it's here, Joe. Safe and sound." he assured the man.  
"Oh thank God! came the heavily relieved response from West, and Harrison frowned again. Something was up.

"Is everything all right, detective?"

"Something is wrong with Barry, he's been out cold on my couch for ten minutes, and I..."

"And you thought he might have been speeding around town, pulling off some secret heroics without telling you?" Wells offered.

"Yeah." Joe answered a little guiltily. "Couldn't be happier to be wrong though! But that doesn't explain why he walked into my house and passed out within five minutes. The only mark on him is a strange bruise I found on his neck. It's healing much too slowly, but maybe that's an advantage to us at this point—you can still examine it. I want to know who, or what hurt my son, Doctor. Can you help me out here? I don't trust the hospital."

Whatever Wells' quarrel with Joe was, when it came to Barry's long term well-being, they both had a mutual goal. Neither one of them wanted to see the eager young speedster permanently injured, suffering, or worse.

"I will be there as quickly as I can, detective." he replied calmly. "But, I will need to contact my colleague, Ms. Snow, for her medical expertise and familiarity with Barry's physique, as I wouldn't attempt a diagnosis without her."

"Do what you have to do, Doctor." Joe replied quickly. "But please hurry."

 

               *      *      *      *

  
Joe never left his son's side. Not even when Iris and Eddie came back and freaked out when they walked through the kitchen and saw him sitting beside an unconscious Barry in the den.  
"Dad! What happened?" Iris shouted in alarm, shoving her purse and bag of takeout into Eddie's hands before she rushed over to the sofa her friend was on, kneeling beside it. "Is he hurt?"  
She threw a stricken glance at Joe as she grabbed one of Barry's limp hands and stroked it gently between her own. "Eddie told me he saw Barry as he was leaving to pick me up—he said he looked really pale." she whispered her sentence as if it were privileged information. "So why has he come back so soon? I mean, I thought he had big weekend plans with Felicity?" Iris's eyes were wide with worry, and tears were beginning to form in the corners. Joe shook his head, trying to keep the fear he felt from coming out in his voice. He didn't want his daughter to panic.

"I don't really know what happened. From what I gathered, things must have gone south between them. He walked in, we talked for a bit—I gave him a hug—and then he just passed out in my arms!"  
Iris rolled her eyes and scowled a little impatiently. "You squeezed him too hard, dad! You have _always_ done that to us, ever since we're kids! You forget how strong you are, and it's like being embraced by a python!" she scolded her father, brown eyes flashing with irritation when Eddie didn't quite manage to stifle his chuckle of amusement at her outburst. Joe got a little tickled, and smiled briefly at his daughter's accusations, shaking his head in humor before he grew serious again.

"Ha-ha. And no, I'm pretty sure it wasn't that because he looked like he was going to hit the floor from the moment he stepped inside the house. He's been unconscious for fifteen minutes now, and no way that's from me!" Joe sighed in worried frustration. "I don't know what happened to him at the Queen's, but I checked—his cell phone's missing, and I'm almost one hundred percent positive he doesn't own those clothes he's wearing."

"Oh, my god!" Iris clapped her hand over her mouth in shock. "You're right! He would never wear...whatever the hell _those_ are." She nodded towards his corduroy cargos. "And what's with the super-purple Hawaiian shirt?"  
"Yeah, I thought his outfit was a little strange when I saw him earlier." Eddie piped up. "Didn't look like his style. And that's coming from me—the guy who barely knows him!"  
Joe frowned and motioned Eddie to move closer to where Iris was. "That's not all, guys." he informed them in a hushed tone. "I found this weird bruise on him, too." he gently grasped Barry's jaw and tilted his head to the side, exposing the still-visible mark on his neck to the others.

Eddie grunted, staring down at it. "Hmm. Well, if he'd come back with that on Monday morning, I'd have said hey—congrats on getting some—but, uh...yeah." he shook his head in disbelief. "It's still Friday night, and that's not a friendly hickey. Kinda looks more like a bite."  
His eyes met Joe's with a look of worry only the other detective mutually understood.

  
_So why isn't he healing though? Given his abilities, this doesn't make sense. Why is he still unconscious?_

Iris missed the barely perceivable shrug her father gave Eddie as she let out a horrified sound, and reached over to touch the injury on Barry's throat with her gentle fingers. "Someone did this to him!" she exclaimed tearfully. "He should be in the hospital getting checked out by a doctor, dad! I think something happened to him at Moira's party. I'm calling an ambulance."

"No!!" Joe and Eddie exclaimed in accidental unison, making Iris stare up at them, her eyes squinting in confusion and surprise. "Okaaay...why not??" she demanded, looking pointedly at Eddie because it was weird that he'd just agreed with her dad like that.

Joe caught the desperate glance from his partner, and he quickly resolved the situation before it could escalate.  
"It's ok, baby." he patted her arm reassuringly. "I've already called Wells, and he's coming with Caitlin, they are on their way here right now. If anyone can help Barry, it's them—they've done miracles before. Don't worry, I got this. You and Eddie go ahead and eat."  
"Fine." Iris said coolly, moving over to re-adjust the afghan Joe had haphazardly draped around Barry's slender frame. "But we're not going anywhere."

 

           *       *        *        *

 

Diggle circled the block for the ninth time, while Felicity kept her head almost hanging out of the window as she tried to spot any sign of Barry. It was well past the time when they were supposed to have met up back at the dye mill, and since she had no way of contacting him, her worry had spiraled into full-blown panic after an hour went by and he didn't appear.

"Go faster! I see something red!" she shouted at Diggle, trying to keep her ponytail updo from flying apart in the rushing breeze as she stuck her head farther out.

To his count, it was actually the fifteenth time she'd said that now, and every one so far had turned out to be not Barry. Diggle sighed. "No, I'm pretty sure that's just the trash bin you saw when we drove past here earlier." he told her tiredly. But he pressed his foot on the accelerator anyway, and kept on going.

_It's not Barry, she'll see. Juuust wait for it, John. 3...2...1._

"Ohh, never mind! It's just another stupid garbage can!" Felicity fell back into her seat with a defeated thump, and rolled her window back up. "This is insane, Dig. We lost Barry! _We lost him_!" Her voice was borderline hysterical. "What if Oliver...shot him full of arrows, and he's—he's just bleeding out somewhere in the dark while we drive around in circles?!! This is all my fault! I NEVER should have gotten him involved—and letting him go off on his own without any way to contact us was a huge mistake! You have to see that, right?"

"Yeah, it's looking that way now." the ex soldier answered calmly, focusing his eyes on the road, and trying to keep his cool for both their sakes. "But I can't say I saw this coming, Felicity. Barry is the fastest man alive. Last time I checked, he can outrun arrows in his sleep."  
His words obviously didn't have the comforting effect he was going for, because the agitated blonde only shook her head. "But Oliver is a killer. And right now, he isn't himself at all. Barry is too trusting and soft-hearted. You can't outrun something you don't see coming."

Gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter, Diggle squared his shoulders and gave his head a little shake. "You don't know that something is wrong. We're just assuming. Maybe Barry found Oliver and they're just...talking it out?"

Felicity shot him a look. "Do you really believe that?" she demanded.

He didn't. Not so much. But if he admitted that to her, he knew she was going to lose it. So he smoothly changed the topic. "Either way, we're no good out here. We might as well head back to Verdant and wait there until we hear from Barry. I'm sure he's ok."

"Fine." The gutsy blonde hacker folded her arms across her chest. "But I'm not going home until we find him."

            *      *      *      *

 Snuggled under a fluffy afghan on Joe's couch, Barry twitched a little and then began stirring, catching Iris's attention. "Dad! Eddie! I think he's coming around!" she called to them in a loud whisper. She watched dark eyelashes fluttering as he started to wake up, and smiled when just a hint of blue showed. "Hello, sunshine." she patted his cheek gently.

Barry struggled to open his eyes as he heard her familiar voice. "Iris...what...why are you here?" he muttered hoarsely, lifting his hand up to rub the blurriness from his eyes, and realizing his arms felt as if they were made out of lead. Joe and Eddie came running from the kitchen, obvious relief on their faces as they saw Barry already trying to sit up.

"No, don't! You're pale as a ghost, Bar!" Iris exclaimed, gently pushing his shoulder back down.  
"How do you feel, son?" Joe moved in beside his daughter and laid his hand against Barry's forehead, frowning when he found his skin there was startlingly cold. He would have been far less alarmed at finding a fever.

"...'m just tired." came the muffled reply from somewhere in the sofa cushions. "What...happened?"  
Joe shook his head. "You passed out. Been like that for almost half an hour now. You scared me to death, Bar! I called Doctor Wells, and he's on his way with Caitlin. They are going to take you back to S.T.A.R labs."

"No thanks..." Barry muttered, trying to pull himself up again, so Joe grasped his arms and carefully helped him into a sitting position, catching his son's head gently between his dark hands when it lolled to one side. "Barry, look at you. You can't even hold your head up!" he exclaimed quietly. "What happened to you, son?"  
A loud, rapid knocking on the front door interrupted them, and Eddie jumped up to answer it. "That's probably them." he glanced over at Joe and Iris. "I'll get it."

The next fifteen minutes were a hazy, confusing blur to Barry. He could hear Wells and Caitlin talking, but he couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to see them clearly. He felt worse with each passing minute, and he was so tired, he barely noticed when the room began to empty as Caitlin requested some "working space around the patient, please". After Eddie and Iris had departed to the kitchen, there were suddenly bright lights being shone into his eyes, a blood pressure cuff being velcroed tightly around his upper arm, and then Caitlin was scanning his forehead with a very expensive, high-tech digital thermometer. Barry hated all the pawing, but he literally had no strength left to offer any resistance with.

"Barry? Can you hear me? Harrison's low voice was suddenly right beside his ear. "I'm just going to take a quick look at this bruise, okay? And if you feel a little stick in your arm, don't worry, that's just Doctor Snow collecting a blood sample."  
Barry hated needles. They freaked him out, and made his stomach twist into queasy knots. He didn't want Caitlin to stick him, and he was so distracted by the thought of it that he didn't notice right away when Well's surprisingly broad hand had wrapped firmly around the back of his neck. Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Barry's semi-lucid brain registered the unexpected touch as both familiar and frightening.

It triggered an instant flashback of Oliver seizing him like that, and immediately the young man began to struggle in a panic. He felt the physicist's expert fingers lightly roaming the injured side of his neck, but when they pressed down a little too hard over the bruise, pain jolted through his body.  
"Let me go! Get off me!" he yelled suddenly, startling Caitlin who'd been about to slide a needle into the biggest vein on his arm. She lost her grip on his jerking limb for a moment and accidentally drove the needle straight into muscle. "Oops! Oh, gosh, sorry, Barry!" she exclaimed apologetically, quickly pulling it back out. "I didn't mean to do that!"  
Joe ran over and gently squeezed his son's shoulders to calm him down. "Just relax, Bar. You're safe here." he murmured soothingly for a moment before stepping out of the way, and letting Wells continue his examination.

The young man wilted against the back of the couch and closed his eyes wearily as he felt Caitlin swabbing his arm with another alcohol wipe.  
The hand Harrison pressed against his exposed throat felt almost painfully warm against his skin now, but when he whimpered—the man stroked a gentle thumb-pad across his cheek. "Easy Barry. I'm not going to hurt you." he said reassuringly. "I just want to find out who did this to you. Can you tell me how you got that bruise? Are you hurt anywhere else?"  
Before he could answer, Caitlin stuck a fresh needle into her patients arm, wincing inwardly when he shuddered and let out a soft cry.  
"Shhh...easy now." Wells whispered, brushing his cheek again. "It's okay."  
Barry couldn't help it—out of morbid curiosity, he looked over to where his blood was slowly being drawn out into a clear vial with a green cap on it. The pain from the needle wasn't gone yet, but the sight of it was what sent him over the edge.  
"Oh no!" Caitlin gasped when her patient's eyes suddenly fell shut and his tousled head rolled limply back into Harrison's sturdy hands. "Well, I've got his blood now." she clutched the small vial in her hand as she carefully removed the needle and thin tubing from Barry's arm. "Let me run a quick diagnostic on it."  
Joe and Wells eased the unconscious Barry back down on the couch while Caitlin busied herself with the state-of-the-art medical equipment she'd arranged out on Joe's coffee table. Within five minutes she had narrowed his symptoms down to one cause.

"Hypovolemic shock." she announced, standing back up from her data-tablet. "Barry's experiencing it right now."  
"What does that mean—for us non-medical types?" Joe wanted to know, his face wearing a worried expression again. "Is he going to be ok?"  
Caitlin frowned, and let her fingers rest gently on the top of Barry's head. "I can't say for sure. Your son lost about twenty percent of his total blood volume tonight, detective West. His body is trying to compensate for the loss, but without a steady intake of fluids and nutrients he won't be able to heal. The markers in his blood indicate dehydration and acute anemia. That's most likely why he keeps passing out. We can take care of him better back at the labs, but I recommend we get him there sooner rather than later."  
Tears stung Joe's eyes. It pained him to know his son must have been badly hurt at one point to sustain that much blood loss, but there hadn't been any sign of such an injury on him, and Barry obviously wasn't going to tell him the truth.  
But really, that part didn't matter. West wouldn't have let anyone lay a finger on his beloved daughter, and despite his adoration of her, Barry was still the family baby. The kid couldn't help it, it was just how things worked out. Iris had matured quickly, and beyond her years, while Barry managed to stay the same innocent, slightly-naive and sweetly selfless soul. Joe was madly protective of him, and he wasn't going to let this pass.

"I'll get Eddie to help me carry him out." was all he could say as he quickly headed for the kitchen.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for patiently awaiting this next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it despite the heavy dialogue! I plan to make the next chapter more active and Oliver-centric. :-)
> 
> Kudos and comments make my world go around. It's true.  
> I love to hear your ideas and feedback! Also, a huge THANK YOU to Spuffysky for fixing my typos and ranty paragraphs!! You rock!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's eyes widened as Caitlin pulled up the pictures of Barry's injury on her tablet for him to see.
> 
> "Whoa! What the hell bit him?"
> 
> Caitlin shook her head and pressed her lips into a slight frown. "That's just it—we don't know. Those puncture wounds weren't caused by anything recognized by our lab's main computer. We really can't figure it out!" Her eyes widened as she went on. "And when's the last time you saw Harrison Wells stumped?" she asked, voice hushed. "The partially healed puncture wounds he found under Barry's skin were made by something with very long, very sharp teeth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't my Oliver-concentrated chapter like I'd planned, but I promise that one is in the works and soon to come! It's just taken me a bit longer to write it. I hope you enjoy this slightly fluffy seventh chapter, and again, thanks for reading and enjoying! My deepest thanks to those who take the time to kudo and comment—this story is for you! 
> 
> And to my awesome beta, Spuffysky, I couldn't keep doing this without your help weeding through my jungles!! Thanks for all the great edits and advice! xoxo

Caitlin found it hard not to keep staring at her patient's sleeping face, because Barry Allen was positively angelic in repose, and up close to him like this, she could more clearly study his delicate features without him ever knowing.

_Gosh, Barry. For a guy, you're sort of a doll, aren't you?_

She smiled and hung another bag of IV fluids over his head, double-checking his blood glucose and hydration levels while simultaneously monitoring his oxygen saturation. His numbers had started off sketchy when they'd brought him in two days ago, but after a few injections of iron serum, and countless bags of IV fluids later, things had balanced out.

"Why don't you just kiss him already? You've been looking at his mouth for ohhh...a minute and forty-two seconds now." Cisco laughed as he came walking back into the room with an armful of medical items Caitlin had asked him to retrieve.

"No, I wasn't!" she spluttered, flushing pink up to her hairline. "I was just—I'm making sure his color is staying normal, that's all!"  
"Mmhm. Sure." The cheeky engineer replied teasingly, handing her a package of gauze wraps. "Don't feel bad. I think I saw Wells checking him out earlier, too—hey, **_ouch_**!" He grabbed the side of his head where Caitlin had just chucked the small, lightweight box back at him.

She gave him a very unsympathetic look. "Don't forget I called you over here, Cisco. I can just as easily ask you to leave." she told him with that trademark bossy note in her voice. "So behave!"  
"All right! I'm behaving!" he laughed at her, turning his glance on Barry for a moment. "So what's his prognosis? Is he healing now?"  
Snow stuffed her hands back into her lab coat pockets. "Yes, he's actually making decent progress...after like twenty-four bags of nutrient concentrate! We took x-rays and a dermal imprint of the bruise he had on him when Joe called us. Doctor Wells spent a lot of time examining our findings, and he seems to be pretty sure it's from a bite of some sort."

Cisco's eyes widened as Caitlin pulled up the pictures of Barry's injury on her tablet for him to see.

"Whoa! What the hell bit him?"

Caitlin shook her head and pressed her lips into a slight frown. "That's just it—we don't know. Those puncture wounds weren't caused by anything recognized by our lab's main computer. We really can't figure it out!" Her eyes widened as she went on. "And when's the last time you saw Harrison Wells stumped?" she asked, voice hushed. "The partially healed puncture wounds he found under Barry's skin were made by something with very long, very sharp teeth."

"Barry Allen— _the fastest guy alive_ —got bit by a freakin monster dog? Nahh...not buying it." Cisco shook his dark head resolutely, and stared at the untouched tray of food resting on a table beside his friend's bed with growing interest. Caitlin had fixed a large lunch for her patient earlier that afternoon—in hopes that he would have woken up by now to eat it. It was definitely depressing that Barry was still unconscious, but Cisco was a shameless opportunist at heart, and right now he was seeing a great one. "I'll bet you his pudding cup that he got attacked and bitten when he encountered some new kind of meta-human from our city terrorizing folks in Star City!" he declared with an air of self-assurance that Caitlin found so annoying sometimes. "He was probably protecting Felicity when it happened, and he didn't want to tell Joe about it because he's trying to save this new meta-guy, or girl, from self-harm, and bring them to us before the cops freak out! He knows Joe would probably go straight to Laurel's dad! Oh, I'm sooo right, and you know it! When Barry wakes up and we get to hear it from him, you'll be bowing to my greatness in...guessing?"  
Chuckling, Cisco waited for Caitlin's response to his absolutely genius theory with a smirk pasted onto his features.

  
The slender bio-engineer just stood there for a moment in silence before shaking her head with a clear I-can't-even expression at her colleague's completely exaggerated notion of how Barry's injury could have had come about.

"If Barry wakes up and his story somehow manages to remotely resemble yours, I will bow to your greatness in guessing, Cisco, but I'm still not going to let you eat his food." she answered him smartly, turning around to hide her face before he could see her laughing at his instantly crestfallen expression.  
"Well, it's not like he'll miss one pudding cup, Caitlin!" he groaned. "Besides, if you don't want me eating it, why don't you just bring me a couple next time you're in the pantry?"  
"You're really asking me that, Ramon?" she rounded on him, expression disapproving. "Ok, how about this? I bought an industrial-sized box of that stuff a week ago—we're talking _two-hundred and fifty_ pudding cups, Cisco!! This morning I counted thirty left. Care to explain that to me, or...are you just gonna slowly back away from Barry's tray before I have to call Doctor Wells in here?"  
"Okay, okay! So I have a snacking problem! Shoot me!" Cisco grumbled, retreating back to his designated area of workspace to lick his wounds. "And why do you just assume it was all me? How do you know Barry wasn't stealing pudding too, huh? "

As they stood there bickering back and forth, a low whimper came from the bed, starting both of them. Caitlin spun around to check her patient. "Barry!"  
His eyes were still closed, but he was tossing restlessly around on the pillows, clenching his hands into fists in the sheets.  
"He's been doing that since yesterday." she informed Cisco quietly, noticing the extremely concerned look on his face. "It means he's dreaming, but I can't figure out why he hasn't woken up yet."

"Really?" the engineer sighed sadly, walking over a few steps until he was right beside the bed. He gazed with affectionate worry down at Barry, and gently stroked the top of the pale hand resting neatly on his stomach. "It's gonna be okay, buddy." he whispered. "I'll play you some tunes to distract that crazy subconscious of yours, don't worry. You want me to get your faves from last year when you were....kinda in the same situation?"  
If Cisco was waiting for a response, the only he answer he got from Barry was the rapidly rising indicators on his blood pressure and heart-rate monitors. The sleeping speedster was growing increasingly agitated by the second, and Cisco couldn't stand listening to Barry's breathing becoming so frantic without trying to comfort him, so he leaned over his whimpering friend and gently squeezed his shoulder.

"Wow dude, c'mon, relax!" he exclaimed in an urgently reassuring voice. "You're gonna give yourself a coronary!"  
He looked over at his female counterpart in horror when he saw actual tears slipping out from beneath Barry's eyelashes. "Holy shit, Caitlin—he's crying!! _For real_ crying! I thought you said he was only dreaming!"

"Well, he...is." she answered, but with with far less conviction in her voice this time. "He's not in a coma, so surely that has to mean he's just asleep. But honestly, I've never seen anyone sleep like this for so long." She hurried over and took Cisco's place next to the bed, staring in bewilderment at the numbers displayed on the overhead monitor. "Then again—I've never seen anyone like Barry Allen before either. I'm not sure what's happening." she shook her head in quiet frustration, and rearranged the blankets around her patient in a somewhat maternal fashion.  
"Barry...please don't cry." she crooned pleadingly, patting his damp cheek gently. Like Cisco, she couldn't bear to hear the sounds of his distress.  
"He started this yesterday after Felicity stopped by to see him, but it wasn't this bad." she whispered when he came around on the other side of Barry's bed to hold his hand.

"Maybe hearing her voice triggered all those memories of him defending her from that meta-human wolverine-type...thingy, you think?" he whispered back. Caitlin rolled her eyes. "No! I don't! And it sure doesn't explain why he's doing it now—Felicity's not been here today!"  
Hovering over their friend with their soft words and gentle touches, the two S.T.A.R labs employees tried their best to soothe the extremely upset Barry Allen to very little avail. Nothing they did seemed to be working, and Snow knew she couldn't give him any sedatives because they would metabolize out of his system far too rapidly to be of any effect.  
Still, desperate to comfort her patient's obvious state of distress, she looked over at her colleague to see he was going to suggest something helpful, but saw instead that he was trying not to cry himself.

_Darn it, Cisco—if you start, I'm gonna start..._

"You should play him some music." She nodded approvingly. "That's really all we've got that might possibly help."

Cisco was all too happy to comply, smiling as he pulled out his iPod and thumbed through the menu screen for a suitable choice. "I think he's still burned out on Lady Gaga." he grinned at Caitlin. "I'm gonna play him Adele this time."

He reached down and slipped his hand under the back of Barry's neck to reposition his head better for the earphones, and he'd just lightly tightened his grip when the speedster suddenly lunged upright on the bed with a startling, heart-wrenching scream that made his pulse stop for a moment.  
Barry was sitting up, just staring at them with wild eyes, and his breathing had escalated to something closer to hyperventilating. He looked down at the IV in his arm, and then back up at the concerned faces of his friends.  
"Barry..." Caitlin spoke his name softly and reached out very slowly to gently squeeze his hand. "It's okay. You're safe in S.T.A.R labs, here with me and Cisco, so just take it easy, all right?"  
Barry felt the pressure of her fingers around his own, and it grounded him for a moment, giving him a chance to take a deep breath and calm his pulse. "Caitlin?" He stared up at her in bewilderment before looking over at Cisco. "Hey, you guys...what am I doing back here?"

"Dude, you've been here for two days already!" Cisco exclaimed, smiling when he saw Barry visibly relaxing. "You've been sleeping like a baby...well, until just now when you scared the shit out of me by waking up screaming like a banshee."

Caitlin gently pushed her patient back onto the pillows. "Don't try to get up yet. You came in here suffering from severe hypovolemic shock, Barry. That means you managed to lose about two pints of blood in a very short amount of time. I imagine that left an impression... Do you remember what happened to you?"  
"No." Barry whispered, and immediately dropped his gaze to the floor, rubbing at his face tiredly. "Where's Joe? I want to go home."

Caitlin glanced at Cisco.

_Awww, he wants his dad! That's got to be the sweetest thing ever..._

Cisco glanced back, but his expression read something entirely different.

_The hell? Can you believe Barry Allen just bare-faced lied to us? **Whaaaat**?_

"Detective West is on his way over. I just got off the phone with him." Harrison Wells announced, rolling smoothly into the room. "Did I hear our patient screaming, Ms. Snow?"  
He looked up and saw his two employees standing around a now-awake Barry Allen. "Oh. You're with us again!" he exclaimed with a friendly smile. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"  
"I'm great. I feel totally fine." Barry answered him much too quickly. "But I think I just want to go home now, if that's ok?"

"Guys, could you give us a minute?" Wells asked of Caitlin and Cisco. "Sure," they said together, and slowly walked out, leaving their friend sitting nervously by himself on the bed.

Once Harrison was sure the other two were out of earshot, he turned his full focus on the young man in front of him. "I'm not going to keep you here against your wishes, Barry." he began in a gentle voice. "I'm sure Joe will be overjoyed that you're awake and talking, and he'll want you to go home, too. But, before you leave us, maybe you could enlighten me as to what sort of assailant it was who attacked you Friday evening? I found the bite wounds in your neck, Barry, and I know you're lying to Joe, and probably everybody else, but don't insult my intelligence. All I'm really concerned with is making sure this doesn't happen again—to you or anyone else. If your attacker is out there, they need to be caught, Barry. What they did to you would have killed most people."  
He fixed the speedster with a probing gaze that made Barry want to zoom out the room instantly.

  
"I'm—not...I really don't remember what happened, Doctor Wells, I'm sorry! Everything is kind of a blur." he lied, burying his face in his hands again for a moment to escape the man's piercing eyes. "Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate it."  
"No need to thank me, Barry." the physicist answered quietly, aware that he was being lied to—and feeling somewhat disappointed by it. "I would do anything to keep you safe. Maybe once you've had a chance to really think about it, you'll remember some details you can tell me?"

The young man refused to meet his gaze. "Sure thing, Doctor Wells." he answered with an unconvincing smile. "If anything comes back to me, you'll hear about it first."

 

                     * * * *

 

 It was gloomy for the rest of the day, and the heavy rain refused to let up. By the time Joe arrived back at his house with Barry, they were both drenched and shivering. Early spring showers in Central City were still pretty cold and nasty; the weather not being warm enough yet to enjoy the constant drizzle.

Hurrying into the house, Joe locked the door behind them and marched Barry upstairs. "Go take a hot shower and then come downstairs for a home-cooked lunch. You've been on IV food for two days, I think it's time for a grilled cheese, don't you?"  
Barry's smile was genuine for the first time that day. "That sounds great! I'll be down in a few minutes."

Joe tossed him a clean towel and washcloth from the hallway linen closet. "You better not speed clean, either!" he warned his son with a small grin. "You take that shower like a regular, slow person, you hear me?"

Barry wasn't feeling exceptionally chipper, but he couldn't help laughing a little at Joe's lapse back into parent mode. "I hear you. Regular, slow person shower. Got it."  
West nodded at him with another, more relaxed smile. "Good. All right then, I'll leave you to it." He gave the young man a gentle nudge in the direction of the bathroom and then headed back downstairs.

 

                    * * * *

 

"Did you take the day off?" Barry mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, clad in sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. He was still busy toweling the back of his head dry. Joe looked up from the skillet he was watching on the stove and smiled at how closely Barry resembled his much-younger self in that moment with his adorable sleepy eyes and tousled brown hair.

 "Of course I did. Called Singh while you were in the shower, too, and let him know that you're back at home with me now. Eddie and Iris want to stop by later tonight to visit you if you're up for it?"  
Joe flipped the cheese sandwich he was grilling, and then looked back at his son, waiting for his response. "Bar?"

"Oh. Yeah, uh, sure. That would be nice."  
"I'll let them know." Joe smiled happily, and set the entire plateful of grilled cheeses down on the table. "Eat up. Can't have you passing out again." he teased gently.  
Barry stared at the mound of food in awe. "Is this—did you...?"  
"Yes, that's an entire loaf of Wonder bread, a whole package of Kraft singles, and about a half a stick of butter." Joe chuckled at him. "You forget my grandma taught me how to cook."

Barry grinned mischievously back at his dad. "Am I allowed to speed eat?"

  
                      * * * *

  
Eddie and Iris had come and gone, the sky outside was dark, and Barry was exhausted. He loved that Joe's couch was big enough for him to comfortably curl up on, and he was just a wad of tangled blankets and limbs when the detective padded quietly into the den an hour later to check on him. He smiled affectionately when he saw the young man had fallen fast asleep with It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia playing in the background on the tv.

_I never will understand why you think that show is so damn hysterical, Bar. But it was good to hear you laughing._

"Come on, sleepyhead." Joe whispered reaching down and ruffling Barry's hair. "I sure as heck can't carry you to bed these days."  
He began pulling his son's arms and torso free of the afghan that he'd managed to wind himself up in, and when Barry was fully awake, he shooed him upstairs to brush his teeth and go to bed. "Go to sleep! I don't want to see you until the morning, you—"  
"Yes, dad. I hear you." Barry interjected with a cute sleepy laugh, amused at Joe's raised-eyebrow expression. "And, I'm going. Good night."

  
Joe shook his head.  
"You better watch that mouth, Barry Allen. Sleep tight, son."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry was having a horrible night—and he knew he must have been crying again when the sound of soft footsteps approaching his bed brought him out of the fitful sleep he'd barely been clinging to.  
> "I'm ok, Joe. Just a nightmare." he muttered into his pillow. "Sorry if I woke you."
> 
> "Move over." That voice wasn't Joe's. Neither was the large, calloused hand that grasped his bare shoulder, pushing him a couple of inches to the side as a pronounced weight settled onto the bed beside him.  
> Panicking, Barry lunged for the side of the mattress, trying to escape—but the brawny arm that curled around his waist immediately nullified his speed powers, and effortlessly pulled him back. "Relax, Barry!" Oliver growled softly, not wanting to wake the fatherly detective sleeping just two rooms away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 is here! And as promised, it's heavy on the Oliver. :-)  
> Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading and encouraging me with all your comments, I really appreciate it! 
> 
> Spuffysky, you rock! Thanks for polishing up my work! xoxo

**Five years ago....**

 

 Lian Yu had dramatically changed Oliver. The hellish island had spared his life, but it had taught him many painful and costly lessons before it let him go. One of them had been survival.  
After being discovered by Yao Fei, in a somewhat brutal fashion, the arrow-skewered billionaire soon learned that as far as sustenance went, he had two choices on the island—starve, or kill. He attributed his weakness then to his own softness, and lack of personal discipline. He was Oliver Queen, and no way did he want to go hungry, or be cold and uncomfortable! So his first, woeful attempts at hunting started out with small animals, but Lian Yu's native pheasants and rabbits were hardly plentiful. There were scores of mercenaries on the island who also sought after them—not to mention the wolf population—and some days, Oliver didn't get to eat at all. He'd drag himself through the rough, green overgrowth, chasing after his new-found mentor with his stomach rumbling and clenching painfully with hunger. And of course, Fei never shared with him. If Oliver didn't make a kill of his own, the other man would sit and heartlessly eat in front of him.

The Chinese general was a moderately impatient, perfectionistic man who seemed never to be pleased with any progression Oliver made in his survival skills—he was always pushing the stranded man for more and more effort. An unprepared person could be pushed only so far before they started making poorly thought-out choices, and in those first few months on the island, Oliver didn't have a clue what he was doing.

  
When Fyers eventually—and perhaps inevitably—captured him, and proceeded to extract information on Fei's whereabouts from him using Bill Wintergreen, Oliver figured he was a goner from the moment he felt the psychotic man's blade slicing into his flesh.  
But he also figured that he owed the general who'd essentially saved his life at least some measure of loyalty, and so bravely refused to talk.  
He had told himself he was mentally prepared for whatever was going to happen next, whether it be death or salvation, but when Yao Fei appeared out of nowhere to rescue him, Oliver realized just how unready to die he'd actually been. His relief and joy at being able to escape with his mentor was short-lived, however, as after they arrived back at their cave Fei had a strange surprise in store for him. "I told you this island is dangerous..." the general had declared, lowering a wounded, whimpering Oliver onto the cave floor. "But you did not tell them where to find me." He nodded approvingly. "You are stronger than I thought. Drink this. I will lead them off. You will stay."

He grabbed the back of Oliver's head and lifted it, holding a cup of strange-smelling fluid to his lips.  
"We have many powerful plants growing on Lian Yu." Fei had said when Queen hesitated to consume the beverage. "There are even a few herbs we've discovered that defy the laws of nature, and it is believed that they were cultivated here by gods from another world. But these plants are a savior to the handful of us who know how to fully utilize their abilities. Fortunately for you, I am one of those few. Now, drink."

Oliver had choked on the thick, viscous liquid as it was forced down his unwilling throat, feeling a burning sensation beginning to spread through his stomach. "What is that stuff? What did you give me?" he shouted, coughing and trying to spit it back out. Fei released him and stood up. "A gift. You will soon see."

He began backing away towards the exit, and Oliver struggled to sit up, not wanting to be left alone. "No!"

Yao had held up his hand. "Remember, in everything, breathe! You breathe, you survive here longer!" he exclaimed, moving away more quickly now until he'd nearly disappeared through the cave's mouth. Oliver shouted after him and tried to follow, but the Chinese general collapsed the rocky passage behind him, sealing the injured billionaire inside.  
For two weeks Oliver had wasted away inside that cave, ravaged by a high fever and tormented by the dead faces inside his waking nightmares. He was never sure if he was awake or asleep, and the only time he registered anything happening was when a cold, gnawing hunger began to clench around his insides like a cruel, barbed fist. He couldn't explain the sensation at first, but after several days he decided that it felt like a raw, feral combination of hunger and thirst.

His bones and joints began to ache so severely he could barely move his limbs, and then the debilitating agony spread to his head and jaws until he couldn't open his mouth from the pain of it. By the end of the first week, Oliver Queen was an unrecognizable, barely-breathing heap on the cave floor. He couldn't fully remember what had overtaken his body—both physically and mentally back in the cave on that cursed island—he'd never really known what it was to start with. But what he did understand was that he wasn't the same man when he was awoken at the end of the second week by Yao Fei's unexpected return.

The outcast general had seemed genuinely surprised to see him alive, but he'd obviously come prepared for that, because with him was one of Fyer's less-capable men, all tied up with rope and already bleeding from a shallow cut across his neck.

Fei had hurled the captive mercenary down onto the floor beside him, and smiled knowingly. "Shēngcún."

Oliver was immediately mesmerized by both the sight and scent of fresh blood, and for the first time since Yao had left him, he became aware of the ravenous beast that had now taken over his body.

 

**Two days ago....**

 

After leaving an unconscious Barry Allen to the care of the harmless, if not overtly sexual, homeless man in the Glades, Oliver proceeded to go about returning his friend's Flash suit back to its rightful home in S.T.A.R. Labs. His reason for doing so was a fairly simple one—he felt guilty, and he hoped he'd be keeping trouble down for the speedster by returning the outfit before it was missed.

Of course, Central City was almost six hundred miles away, and while Barry could run that distance in six minutes, Oliver certainly couldn't. He took advantage of a little makeup, a change of clothes, and a very fast, anonymously-rented car. It worked in his favor that Felicity and Diggle were still circling in the Glades looking for their missing ally at the moment. With their attention fully off of him and whatever moves he made next—the vigilante decided that now was likely the best time to head into Central City.  
So that's where he drove, and that's where he stayed for awhile—even after he'd returned the suit back to the conveniently empty lab. Truth be told, he'd wanted to see if Barry was going to come streaking back into the city and straight to the police department. He'd half-expected it, and had mentally prepared himself for the consequences of his rather violent actions, because he knew if the tables had been turned, and Barry was the rogue one, he would have hunted him in a heartbeat.

  
But when the speedster never showed up downtown, Oliver retreated to the suburb where Joe West lived, and kept a close watch on the house. He both saw and smelled Eddie and Iris arriving there with Thai food (which made him grimace), but he didn't catch a glimpse of Barry until about an hour after the massive S.T.A.R. labs van had pulled up in the drive.  
Joe and Eddie had come out of the house, carrying the unconscious CSI between them as they were trailed by Wells, Caitlin, and a tearful Iris.  
Still stealthed, Oliver watched as the two detectives carefully laid their burden out on the waiting stretcher in the back of the monstrous tech vehicle, and covered him up with blankets. He felt some stirrings of concern at seeing Barry so quietly still, even though he could hear the young man's heart beating steadily from where he was hiding. He felt a strong urge to follow, so he jumped back in his rental and pursued the van at a safe distance back to the labs. After leaving his car, Oliver stayed up high on the rooftops surrounding the science building, not moving in any closer—but continually watching with keen eyes from his skyscraper vantage point until he was sure nothing was greatly amiss with his friend.

And even then, he couldn't bring himself to return to Star City He checked into a cheap motel a few blocks down from Joe's house, and decided to stay there awhile to ponder his next plan of action. Once Barry woke up, there would be no sweeping this under the rug.

 

**Present day....**

 

Barry was having a horrible night—and he knew he must have been crying again when the sound of soft footsteps approaching his bed brought him out of the fitful sleep he'd barely been clinging to.  
"I'm ok, Joe. Just a nightmare." he muttered into his pillow. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Move over." That voice wasn't Joe's. Neither was the large, calloused hand that grasped his bare shoulder, pushing him a couple of inches to the side as a pronounced weight settled onto the bed beside him.  
Panicking, Barry lunged for the side of the mattress, trying to escape—but the brawny arm that curled around his waist immediately nullified his speed powers, and effortlessly pulled him back. "Relax, Barry!" Oliver growled softly, not wanting to wake the fatherly detective sleeping just two rooms away. "I just came to see how you were doing. I heard you slept in S.T.A.R labs for two days after our...encounter, and couldn't help feeling like some of it was my fault."

"Try all of it." Barry answered uncharitably, refusing to look at him.

"I warned you, Barry. You chose to stay." Queen replied unapologetically, leaning a little closer to him. "But having said that, I don't want you to think I was ungrateful, because what you did for me—it's kept me from doing a lot of...other bad things."  
There was a very long, tense pause, where Barry said nothing.

_You are such an asshole, Oliver Queen._

Oliver sighed, understanding what was meant by his silence. "I know you didn't tell anyone about it. Why?" he asked.

"Seriously—who was I gonna tell, and what was I supposed to say? Where would I even start, huh?" Barry snapped, anger rising in his voice as tears stung his eyes at the pang of betrayal he still felt. " _Oh hey, Joe, Iris—and Eddie_! Don't worry about this big-ass bite mark on my neck, or the fact that I can't go five minutes without fainting—I'm _FINE_! Oliver Queen does this to ALL his friends!"

The vigilante winced a little. "Well, you could have ruined the rest of my life for me, Barry. I could be the most hated, hunted man in Star City right now but I'm not—thanks to you. I really appreciate that you didn't tell Felicity and Diggle. And, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"You know what—it's fine." the younger man interrupted coldly, putting additional distance between himself and the billionaire. "I'm not looking for an apology or an explanation from you. I'm the one who went searching in the Glades despite the fact that you obviously wanted to keep your distance from all of us. And, you're right, you did warn me—you told me to go. I didn't, because I wanted to help you!" Barry bit down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling. "But what happened afterwards isn't something we ever need to talk about."

There was another long moment of silence. "You sure?" Oliver finally asked in a low, disbelieving tone. "You really don't want to talk about it?"  
Barry scrambled fully away from him now, and sat up on the edge of the bed, his blue eyes sparking with ire and unshed tears as he fixed the trespassing billionaire with an withering glare.  
"I saw a side of you that night that wasn't _HUMAN_ , Oliver!" he hissed. "And I didn't just see it—I felt it! I felt your freakish teeth ripping into my throat! I might heal fast, but what amount of apologizing is ever going to erase that memory from my mind?" The tears were escaping down his cheeks now. "I close my eyes every night, and all I can see is you standing in front of me, with those fangs just coming out of nowhere! I can't sleep because of you! So NO, I don't want to talk about it—or think about it ever again! Keep your answers for the people actually asking questions. Now get out of Joe's house!"

Oliver shook his head and slowly reached out a hand towards his agitated friend. "Look, Barry...I know I hurt you." he tried again. "And, I know I can't take it back or make it right, but you should let me help you."

"Why?"

"Because if you want to sleep, I can make that happen."

"You're the reason I can't sleep, remember?!" Barry snapped at him, dashing the salt-water from his eyes as he pointed towards the door. "Just go, please."

Ignoring him completely, Oliver grabbed his friend's pillows and plumped them up with a few light punches before putting them back. "I know I scared you. But I don't want you to think I'm a monster, Barry." he murmured. "And I'm not leaving you to cry yourself back to sleep, so stop arguing, and just lay down."  
He pointed authoritatively at one of the newly-fluffed pillows, and held his stance until the younger man rolled his eyes impatiently, finally dropping his head back onto it with an irritated sigh. Gazing warily up at Oliver, Barry hoped he was giving off an I-could-kick-your-butt vibe, but was unaware that from the vigilante's focal point, he just looked like he was giving him a coy look from beneath his lashes.  
"How exactly do you plan to make me go to sleep?" he asked suspiciously and Oliver couldn't help the tiny, wicked smile that briefly made its way to his lips.

  
_Ohh, baby, really? There are so many different ways that could be accomplished..._

  
"Relax." he murmured. "I already told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to talk you down until you fall asleep on your own."  
Barry snorted out a quiet laugh. "You're going to what, now? Talk me to sleep? Is that what you used to do for Laurel?"  
"No." Oliver deadpanned, ignoring the obvious humor as always. "I learned this skill while I was on the island—from a girl who was...kind of like me."  
He moved towards Barry again at a non-threatening speed, and very carefully tucked his lean, sculpted limbs loosely back under the comforter. He had thought the younger man had relaxed, but when he sidled in a little too close, the nervous speedster quickly turned around and buried his face in the pillow. That rapid movement caused the blanket to slip off his shoulders, revealing the tempting expanse of his naked back to Oliver's sight, and the billionaire had to force himself not to instinctively nuzzle at the flawless skin. He didn't know why he was so obsessed, so possessive of the young man, but it wasn't a feeling he wanted to fight as he reluctantly replaced the covers. He then stretched himself out beside Barry—just a foot away from him—and laid his head on the end of his pillow. From here, he could hear his friend's heart still beating in a frantic rhythm, and he could feel him trembling through the mattress.  
Oliver tensed up for a moment, both loving and hating the obvious fear he'd inspired.  
He tried for the softest, gentlest vocal timbre he was capable of producing. "Barry...I want you to take a few deep breaths and try to relax, okay?" he whispered. "You have my word of honor that I won't hurt you. I'm not even going to touch you—I know what happens when I do, and it's not intentional, I promise." he sighed again, and Barry thought it might have sounded a little sadder than before.

"So for right now, I just want you to start breathing in and out...nice and slow...and listen to the sound of my voice, okay?" the billionaire went on in the same gentle tone and he smiled a bit when he heard Barry make a shaky effort to breathe smoothly. "That's good." he murmured, throwing as much calm approval and encouragement into his voice as he could manage. "Try it one more time, nice and slow...all relaxed. Close your eyes now, and just focus on my voice. Now, deep breath in...hold it....good, and slowly let it back out."  
Doing as he was instructed felt weird to Barry at first, but as he gradually let his mind and body relax to the low, silky rumble of Oliver's tones, he's started to drift into a state of hypnotic serenity. The minutes began to run together, and time started to blur, until he couldn't remember how long he'd been laying there, breathing deeply and relaxing further with every word that was whispered into his ear.

His eyelids grew heavy and the lulling haze of melatonin began to build up in his system, working to further his footsteps down on the path towards sleep. He was slowly beginning to realize that the sound of the vigilante's voice was actually, legitimately soothing him now. And true to his word, the man hadn't moved an inch closer to him at any point so far, which enabled Barry to feel like he could perhaps trust him enough to let go and fall asleep. His mind hadn't fully quieted yet, although his body was completely relaxed, and he was starting to feel himself nearing the brink of blissful unconsciousness.

_Whoa...this so weird...how's he doing that? I'm...am I actually falling asleep?_

"Are you hypnotizing me...?" he muttered sleepily, half-lost to the dreamworld already, and not really caring that he could vaguely feel the pressure of a broad chest against his covered back.  
"No. You're hypnotizing yourself by listening to my voice..." Oliver's husky growl was right at his ear now, his lips almost brushing Barry's skin. "So no more talking, shhhhhhh..." he breathed. "It's time to sleep." He could hear the speedster's heartbeat slowing obediently in response to him, and a tiny flare of desire burned in his chest for a moment, for he knew the younger man was completely and unequivocally powerless against him now.

"Shhhhh..." he whispered again, as calmly and softly as if he were cajoling a newborn infant. "You're safe, and I'm here, watching over you...so you can sleep."  
Barry exhaled a drowsy, contented sigh and stirred a bit, dropping his head farther down on the pillow, and shifting to where he was more comfortably nestled against the other man's chest. The long, elegant curve of his throat was fully exposed to his fanged friend now, but he didn't seem to notice or care as he lay there with closed eyes, breathing in peaceful repetitions.

"There you go..." Oliver purred in possessive approval, his voice darkening into a tone of dominative seduction as he watched the speedster slowly surrendering to dreams. "...just sleep for me now..."  
Behind his canines, his jaw ached to release it's sharp, hidden fangs as the intoxicating scent of the unique blood pulsing nearby filled his nostrils. He stared down at the unconscious young man with hungry eyes—wanting to do a whole lot more to him than just bite him. That first taste he'd gotten two days prior had been so heady and addictive, and the after-effects of drinking Barry's blood were unlike any high he'd ever experienced before. Oliver needed it again, he needed more.  
All the same, he knew he'd just given Barry his word of honor that he wouldn't hurt him, and he wasn't about to go back on that, no matter how enticing the opportunity was. Biting...and other activities..would have to wait. But, when his slumbering friend made another soft, pacified sound, he lost the remaining grip he had on his burning desire in a heartbeat.

He buried his mouth in that sinfully tempting neck, kissing and tasting every silky inch of skin beneath his lips before moving up to nuzzle at the speedster's ear, not caring if his sudden lapse into passion woke him again. "That's right..." Oliver whispered when the younger man let out a barely audible sound of pleasure, still fast asleep as he melted into his embrace. "...you're mine, Barry Allen."

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Director Singh wasn't as impressed as Barry thought he should have been. "Oh, was this bring-your-kid-to-work day? Did I miss the memo?" he snarked at Joe when the detective walked in with his assistant CSI.  
> "Haha." Barry glanced over at his boss, while Joe tried not to smile (he knew what was coming next)—and kept on walking to his side of the building to meet Eddie.  
> "You got anything for me, sir?" the young man asked hopefully after a brief pause.  
> "Yeah." Singh nodded, and jerked his head in the direction of the lab. "I got the same case I had for you last week. In fact, I'm even willing to bet the file is still on your desk in the exact place I put it before."  
> "Oh." Barry's smile waned a little bit. "That."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for patiently awaiting this 9th chapter! It's a little shorter than the others, but I plan to make up for it in the next one!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, and if you do—comments and kudos make my soul happy!!
> 
> Thanks to my awesome beta, Spuffysky, for editing up my word jungle!!

After Oliver had left him to his repose sometime during the night, Barry slept like a child until dawn, only waking to the sounds of Joe bustling around in the kitchen, making a pot of his early morning coffee while he got ready for work.

He stumbled sleepily down the stairs and intercepted the detective groping elbow-deep inside the fridge for something. "Dad! Why didn't you wake me up? I didn't realize I slept so late!" he exclaimed, receiving a surprised look from the older man in return.  
"I didn't wake you up because you needed the sleep, Barry." Joe answered gently, letting the refrigerator door swing shut on its own since his hands were full. "I hope you don't think I'm letting you into work today. I want you to take the day off and rest while I'm gone because you still look a little pale. You feel okay?"

He stared keenly into Barry's face, waiting for a response.

"Yeah, I'm fine! I slept great!" the young man promised.

"Alright." Joe nodded agreeably, emptying a healthy dose of coffee creamer into his steaming mug. "Well, make yourself at home then. I'll bring home dinner tonight."

He started stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee, and then acknowledged his son's woebegone expression with a surprised laugh.

"Aw, Bar...don't tell me you were seriously planning to go to work?"  
"Why not?" Barry whined. "Do you really want me to be here by myself, all alone, with nothing to do?" Joe turned to look the other way so he wouldn't laugh at how dramatic his son was being. "I'm sure I could find plenty of things for you to do around the house if that's what you're worried about." he suggested as he poured his prepared coffee into a thermos.

"And honestly, yes, I'd feel better if you just took this day to rest." he added, glancing back at that blue-eyed, pouting face. "You've not been holding up too well these past couple days—and I know you're not gonna tell me what actually happened last week." he added. "But that doesn't mean you're fine."

"Seriously, I AM fine!" Barry insisted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "And I got plenty of sleep last night, I'm all rested up, promise! I want to go. Hey, at least I'll be on time if you take me, right? Singh will be impressed!"

  
"You're not even dressed." Joe pointed out, wanting to outright say "no" to him, but failing every time he looked at those pleading eyes. "And I'm leaving in five—"

Barry gusted upstairs, leaving his dad standing in the resulting breeze before he was back down again, fully clothed and groomed in four seconds flat.

  
"...minutes." Joe finished with a slightly awe-struck expression. "All right then." he shook his head. "I guess you're going to work."

  
* * * *

  
Director Singh wasn't as impressed as Barry thought he should have been. "Oh, was this bring-your-kid-to-work day? Did I miss the memo?" he snarked at Joe when the detective walked in with his assistant CSI.  
"Haha." Barry glanced over at his boss, while Joe tried not to smile (he knew what was coming next)—and kept on walking to his side of the building to meet Eddie.  
"You got anything for me, sir?" the young man asked hopefully after a brief pause.

"Yeah." Singh nodded, and jerked his head in the direction of the lab. "I got the same case I had for you last week. In fact, I'm even willing to bet the file is still on your desk in the exact place I put it before."

  
"Oh." Barry's smile waned a little bit. "That."

  
_Hey! I looked at it! Just not for very long..._

"I'm uh, kind of stuck on that one for the moment, sir. Do you have anything...newer?"

The impeccably dressed crime lab director adjusted his tie for a moment and then looked up at his most promising underling with an impatient sound. "Sure we do, Mr. Allen. But not for you. See, Joe told me about your accident, and he also told me that you've refused to come clean to him about what happened to you. Now, I'm not a parent, but I can only imagine how much grief and worry you've caused him. In fact, I can't think of a single good reason why you would conceal something like that from any of us."

The young CSI's face paled a shade lighter. "What? No! I'm fine—I didn't—"

"In this unit, we don't lie to each other—whether we're the CSI or the CCPD, it doesn't matter." Singh interrupted him firmly. "You're on indoor duty for the next two weeks, got it? Your work is now limited to what you can accomplish here inside this lab facility. That case is high priority, and I don't want to see you trying to hit the streets with Eddie, or anyone else! I've got my eyes on you, Allen."

Barry might have been in his twenties now, but he still hung his head at being scolded, looking like a sad puppy as he turned toward the laboratory's closed doors with a little sigh. "Yes, sir." he answered. "I'll stay on it until I've narrowed it down."

_I can't believe Joe tattled on me like that! It's like they've teamed up to punish me! But maybe I've had it coming, I am a horrible liar._

All the same, he didn't want to be stuck in that stuffy, chemical-filled workplace all day. He wanted to get out and run. The really terrible part was that he couldn't even speed-work on the impossibly complicated evidence Singh expected him to work out. There were cameras everywhere in the lab, and no blind spots! He was supposed to be determining the chemical structure and compounds from an unknown toxin found at a crime scene just last week.

A woman had been the victim of a brutal murder, she'd been poisoned in a pretty horrific fashion—and frankly, part of the reason why Barry was dragging his heels about doing the lab work, was because of how utterly disturbing he found the case. He really didn't want to have to remember what that woman looked like in her posthumous snapshots—all bloated and black...and he sure as hell wasn't eager to start scoping out the strangely-colored vials of her toxic blood that the coroner had supplied for him. Nonetheless, he knew he had to start sometime, so he reluctantly donned his lab attire and latex gloves, and got down to work. Three hours later he'd only managed to isolate some of the toxins, and they were all completely unrecognizable to him. They didn't match anything he'd ever seen before, so that only meant more work—and he was already distracted and starving because he'd skipped breakfast that morning.

He settled for brewing himself a couple pots of terrible coffee from his miniature coffee-maker. He kept it stashed under his desk, so Singh never complained about it, and right now it was a life-saver.  
Another few hours passed, leaving Barry a little wired from his caffeine consumption, and more than a little full in the bladder. The minute the clock struck twelve, he dashed out of the lab and down the hall to the men's room. Thankfully, it was empty inside, and he was took advantage of his speed to empty his bladder as quickly as possible.  
Feeling better now, the slender CSI made his way back to the lab at a calmer pace, and walked in through the door to find a hastily written note lying on top of his current tox screen result papers. It read: Parking lot behind Gino's. Two minutes.

_Huh? That place is out of business, and it's halfway across town from here! I guess this isn't a lunch invite. Bummer._

"Barry!" Joe called his name from out in the hall, stepping up to stick his head through the lab doors. "Eddie and I are heading out for lunch. You coming with?"

"Oh! Um, I've actually got a little errand to run." Barry answered evasively, crumpling the note quickly into his pocket. "But tomorrow, for sure." he promised with a smile.

Joe nodded and left while his son just stood there for a few more minutes, pondering on the strange message he'd received. Eventually, Barry stripped off his gloves and lab coat, put his jacket on, and tried to be invisible as he headed through the throng of police officers downstairs towards the front door. Luckily for him, Singh's fiancée had shown up—and the lab director was thoroughly distracted for the moment, making it easy for him to slip by without the man noticing him. The last thing he needed was questions and delays right now.

Once he was outside, far away from anyone's view, Barry didn't waste time using his speed—he wanted to see what was so important about a closed-down restaurant. Secretly, he was hoping it would be something that would put his current case on the back-burner for awhile.  
It didn't take him long to streak clear to the other side of town, but nothing seemed to be happening at the abandoned eatery when he got there, and the parking lot was completely empty, save for one very eye-catching GT9-R Porsche parked in the far corner. Utterly curious now, Barry approached it slowly, looking to see if there was anyone inside. He was almost to the driver-side door when a rustle and a solid thump from behind startled him. He whirled around to see Oliver Queen standing fifteen feet away, all decked out in his green Arrow outfit. He even had his weapons this time.

"Oliver! What are you doing back here?" He kept a cautious distance between them, but Queen dropped his hood with a brief smile, and approached with his hands held up in truce. "Actually, I never left town after you fell asleep last night. I just went back to my motel. I can hear your heart racing from here, Barry—relax."

The younger man cast a quick glance around, marking the fastest escape route should it become necessary. "What do you want?" he asked shortly. "You know, it's my lunch break right—and I'm starving! I only get ONE lunch break, since I—"

His sentence was cut short when Oliver pulled a small keyfob from his shirt and aimed it at the car, unlocking it with a couple beeps.

"Help yourself." He pointed to the door, and Barry opened it with a slightly confused expression on his face, until he saw the driver's seat was stacked with four large white pizza boxes, steam slowly rising from the outside corners.

"Pepperoni, olives and jalapeños. That's your favorite, isn't it?"

Startled by his masked friend's voice coming from directly behind him, Barry jumped a little.

"Oh! Yeah, that's right. But how did you know?" he asked incredulously, not letting his surprise stop him from tearing into the topmost pizza box with relish. "Mmm... _oh my goodness, this is amazing_!" he exclaimed, moaning happily between mouthfuls.

Oliver suddenly found himself wishing it were thirty degrees colder outside, as the sight of Barry eating and making those kinds of noises sent far too much heat into his blood. He decided to revert back to the original topic. "Knock yourself out, Barry, it's all for you. I'm only here to talk to you about that homicide Singh's got you working on. We've had a few just like it back in Star City. Laurel's dad can't make sense of it. I thought you might have it figured out a little better?"

"Uhh..." Barry shook his head and hastily swallowed another bite. "You give me too much credit. That case has got me stumped! I've never seen anything like those weird organisms I found in that woman's blood. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a corpse like her's either. At this point, I don't know if I should be worried or excited."

"I'd stick with worried." Oliver deadpanned. "And I would be very careful handling whatever substances you find."

Barry frowned. "What? Why?" he stepped closer to the vigilante and lowered his voice secretively. "You know something I don't?"

_I've got a library in my head of things you don't know, sweetheart._

"Yeah. I know I've seen it in only one other place before."

Barry waited for the rest of the sentence, but when the other man just stood there, he raised one of his eyebrows, unintentionally emulating Joe's trademark expression for a second. "And that was?" he prompted impatiently.

Oliver almost laughed. Almost.

"Lian Yu. That island housed a number of native herbs that can't be found anywhere else in the world. Lots of them were used as poisons to kill people...a few were used for more heinous things than death."

"So...what does that mean?" the CSI whispered, feeling a cold fear settling into his gut.

"I don't fully know yet." his brooding friend answered quietly. "But I'm pretty sure that my past is catching up with me. I'm keeping an eye out for the guy who I think is committing these murders, but you let me know if you see anything going in Central City."

"I see you still have that mask I made you. Kinda thought you might have traded it in for a better model by now." Barry declared, changing the topic suddenly. "You know, Felicity told me a couple weeks ago that when she wanted to keep the box it came in, you took it from her!"

"My mask?" Oliver shook his head. "Why would I get rid of it? And, I thought the box you put it in was...well, you obviously put a lot of time and effort into creating a unique gift for _ME_. Felicity has enough of her own stuff! Last time I got something that awesome was over a decade ago, when Laurel tied a ribbon around her waist and stuck a little bow on her—"

"I'm good!" Barry interrupted him quickly, heat rising in his cheeks. "Yeah, I get the idea! You liked my present. Great." he smiled thinly, and Oliver frowned. The kid wasn't hearing him.  
"I love it, Barry! I would never be without it. It's got my back, day or night, and I couldn't replace it if I tried. It's almost like having..."

_You. But it's not the same. I'd rather actually have you._

His voice might have trailed off but Barry seemed to understand what Oliver was saying, and he smiled bigger that time, revealing the neat row of his upper teeth.  
The masked vigilante found himself staring at that soft mouth—adoring the way it curled up in the corners when Barry smiled at him. Another flash of arousal ignited in his blood, as he felt the hungry beast inside him begin to clamor for satisfaction—any kind of satisfaction.

Oliver fixed the younger man with a hawklike gaze, his eyes keen and piercing as he took in the tantalizing sight of Barry Allen just standing there, calm and collected. In that moment—more than ever—he wanted to chase that sculpted speedster relentlessly, and hunt him like wild prey until the kid had no strength left to run.

_No! Not like that! Patience._

Stomping down on a mental image of the beast's head, Oliver managed to get ahold of himself and keep his expression neutral. He offered Barry another polite smile and retreated a step or two away from him. "I'll stay out of your city...but if you see any more cases like the one you have now, come find me. I promise you, it's not something you're equipped to handle on your own."

"How am I supposed to find you?"

"Do you remember our mutual friend, Jack? Well, find him next time. He knows how to contact me."

_Mutual friend? Nah...that guy is a creep, Oliver!_

Barry forced a smile. "Thanks for the pizza...and the uh...weirdly-effective hypno-sleep-thing last night. I haven't slept that well since...ever." His grin was almost bashful now, and Oliver couldn't stand how cute that was.

  
_Sleep would never be a problem again if you stayed with me, baby. I'd take care of you...every last inch of you..._

"Don't mention it." Oliver raised his hood again, obscuring his face from the sunlight. "Be good, Barry."

"Hey, I'm an angel!" the younger man replied with a laugh. "You're the bad one." 

Oliver just shook his head, climbing into his pizzeria-scented rental. "I'll see you later."

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bar! It's for you!" Joe came running over to him, holding out his cell for him to take. Barry glanced up at the detective in surprise for a moment before lifting the device to his ear. "Hello?"
> 
> "Barry? It's Caitlin." Her voice sounded a little staticky on the other end of the line. "I think you might want to come down to the labs. That blood you gave us to analyze a few days ago has turned up some really crazy stuff, and Doctor Wells believes we may be dealing with some type of biological warfare agent. And if that's the case, your lab at the precinct is poorly equipped to contain this. How soon can you be here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the dreadful wait! I had the flu and it kicked my butt! It's been super hard to write with sinus congestion—but I'm alive! And here's chapter 10 for my kind, devoted readers! Eleven is just around the corner so the next update won't take me nearly as long! I sincerely hope you enjoy this next installment, and as always—huge thanks to Spuffysky for her mad beta skills!

 The next three days that Barry spent inside his lab were extremely annoying ones. To him anyway. Sure, there was a slight upside; crime was still at a low so he hadn't been putting much overtime into saving people as the Flash, but, on the other hand, that just left him feeling unfulfilled with no opportunity to lapse into scarlet-clad heroics. It didn't help that he was also growing more and more frustrated with the odd homicide case Singh had assigned him to.

Of course, it hadn't taken him long to decide that going to Wells and Caitlin with his findings was the next best step—he'd done that the very next evening—but waiting to hear back from them was the truly difficult part.

He had to continually keep himself looking busy and by the second day, he was running out of things to do—there were only so many procedures to be duplicated. He knew if Singh came by asking questions he wouldn't be able to bullshit his way out of it. The man could smell a lie a thousand yards away, and Barry was sure that he had to be the world's most obvious liar. Therefore, his heart nearly dropped out of his chest when he heard someone walking in behind him just as he was about to put a vial of blood into the centrifuge.

_I'm screwed. If this is Singh right now, I am so screwed!_

"Barry? Is this a bad time?" A soft feminine voice called out, and a wave of relief flooded the nervous young man as he whirled to greet his visitor with a happy smile.

"Felicity! Oh, thank God!"

"Okay, I'm not gonna lie—that's not what I was expecting to hear!" The petite blonde laughed shakily, looking as if she might be on the verge of crying. "I was kind of figuring it would be more along the lines of _Felicity, I never want to see you again_ —but I'll take it!" She shook her head as the tears threatening to spill over finally slipped down her cheeks. "Barry, I am SO SORRY—what happened to you was all my fault! I should never have asked you to get involved—and you have every right to hate me—"

"Whoa!" Barry interrupted, throwing his hands up for a minute. "Slow down, Felicity! First of all, I could never hate you!" He shook his head vigorously, hoping to reassure her. "Second, what happened wasn't your fault, _at all_. I'm a big boy, and I chose to go after Oliver of my own free will, okay? And I'm glad you asked me to help—I wouldn't have had it any other way!" He leant down to hug her tightly, enjoying when she hugged him back just as hard.

"I went to see you a few days ago, while you were still unconscious at S.T.A.R. labs." Felicity's voice was slightly muffled against his shoulder. "I would have come back sooner...I just figured you wouldn't have wanted to talk to me after everything. Oliver actually paid me a visit yesterday, and I asked him about it."

 _I'd have loved to have been a fly on that wall_...

"Oh yeah?" Barry pulled back, holding Felicity at arm's length to look into her face. "What did he say?" The blonde shook her head with a slight frown. "Typical Oliver. He told me I'd have to ask you, and that whatever you said is what I can tell anybody else who asks. So...what did happen to you? I had a long chat with Caitlin the day I went to visit you, and I know what they found. When she told me how much blood you lost—I felt sick to my stomach! You got hurt, _really hurt_ , Barry." She looked as if she were about to cry again, so he quickly patted her shoulder.

"I'm okay now! See?" Barry flashed her his trademark grin. "And honestly, I don't really remember what happened to me. I've tried to think about it, tried to recall stuff—but all I get are little pieces of memories that don't make a lot of sense. The only things I clearly remember from that night were blacking out in a warehouse, and waking up chained to the wall on some homeless guy's mattress."

Felicity made a horrified sound and scrunched her nose up in disgust. "Ugh! That's awful! Why were you chained up?" she asked, her eyes widening in shock.

"Honestly?" Barry shook his head. "I think Oliver wanted me to stay out of the way. Long story short, I ended up using my speed to get free but once I made it back home, I passed out. More than once, according to Joe. I think I remember seeing Caitlin there too, but everything's still kinda hazy."

Felicity stared up at him a little skeptically when he'd finished talking. "That's it?" she said, quirking up one of her eyebrows. "You just blacked out? Oliver didn't...he didn't attack you or anything?" She shook her head again and pressed her lips into a thin line. "But wait, that doesn't really add up, does it? Don't you want to know what happened to you?" She grabbed Barry's arm to get his full attention, because she thought it was odd that he'd suddenly stopped meeting her gaze. He just shrugged and offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry I can't be more enlightening. You'd have been better off getting the story from Oliver, I guess."

"We both know I would never have gotten the truth from him." Felicity sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. "But, you do seem better now, so I'll trust you when you say that you're okay! And I promise that's the last time I'll ever ask you to do anything like that for me again. I should have just given Ollie his space like Diggle suggested in the first place." She smiled somewhat regretfully, and then held up a small bag, more specifically—the duffel bag he'd left behind at Verdant the night they'd all gone looking for Oliver.

"Thought you'd want your clothes back." she said as she handed it over to him. "And your cell phone's in there too. Don't worry, I didn't go through any of your steamy text messages." She winked, then laughed at his startled expression.

"I'm sure the battery was dead by the time you even thought about doing that!" he said by way of a comeback, shaking his head at Felicity in disbelief when she didn't even attempt to defend herself.  
"It was—I know, I'm a terrible person." She chuckled. "Listen, Barry, I can't stay—I'm sort of here on an errand, but what would you say to maybe hanging out with me this weekend? We could meet up somewhere, and go have some fun? Maybe you'll actually sing karaoke for me this time if I get drunk enough! But I promise nothing horrible will happen this time!"

_Aww. How could I refuse that?_

"Of course!" he grinned broadly at the blonde hacker. "That's sounds great, I'd love to!"

"Awesome!" Felicity leaned up and kissed him briefly on the cheek. "I'm so glad to see you doing better." she whispered sincerely. "Text me sometime, okay? And take care of yourself." She squeezed his arm gently, and stepped back—heading for the door.

"I will!" Barry promised her as she paused to look at him one last time before she left.  
With a smile and a wave, Felicity was gone, and the lab was dull and annoying once more. Letting out a heavy sigh, the frustrated CSI put his hands behind his head and stared at up the clock on the wall.

_You've got to be kidding me! It's still two hours until lunchtime? Ugh._

He decided to pass the dragging time with some soul-searching on the current events happening in his life. Iris was first person who popped into his mind, so he began to ponder his friendship with her. Women were so complicated, it seemed. And so were relationships—even the ones that ought to have been simple enough. These days, Barry really wasn't sure how he felt about his first crush anymore. Watching her be happy with Eddie week after week, month after month—it was dampening his ardor. She obviously didn't need him like he'd thought he needed her, and after having admitted that to himself, Barry was starting to think that it was probably time he outgrew his childhood obsession with her. He knew he had to be robbing himself of future joy because life surely had plenty of other things to offer him, and there was no reason not to start taking advantage of that! After all, Iris really was more of a sister to him now than anything else, and it appeared that's how it was always going to be.

 _Great. So I'm moving on_.

With the Iris issue out of his head for now, Barry's thoughts turned fondly towards Felicity. He already knew he loved her, it was hard not to! But again, this was a situation where he felt pretty sure he was going to be the odd man out eventually. The pretty blonde obviously had feelings for Oliver, no matter how desperately she tried to hide them.

Barry wasn't blind. And if he was also being honest, he had feelings for the man too, although the actual nature of them he found much harder to determine.

_What the hell is going on between us anyway? It's weird and tense...but maybe that's hot. Whoa—why am I even thinking about that right now?_

"Barry!" Joe's urgent voice startled the young man as he had been standing there lost in thought. "We gotta go! Someone just called in another homicide—and Singh specifically asked for you."

"No way!" Barry whirled around, and made a beeline for his jacket as he haphazardly tossed his lab coat onto the floor. "I'm coming!"

 

                        * * * *

  
Singh was still at the scene by the time his employee arrived with his detective entourage of Joe and Eddie. The lab director didn't look happy, but then, he never really looked happy. Barry decided to smile for both of them. "Sir, what are we looking at here?" he asked urgently, trying to keep his obvious excitement out of his voice.  
"You're here! Great." Singh beckoned his CSI over and pointed him to the covered corpse lying on the floor. "I think we're looking at a problem, Allen. Have a peek."  
Barry snapped on the pair of blue latex gloves his boss was holding out as he knelt and cautiously lifted up one corner of the black material covering the corpse's face. "Whoa..." he muttered, staring up at Singh in shock. "This guy looks just like the victim from that case you've got me on now! How's that even possible?"  
He glanced back at the dead man, and careful took in the details of his face. His eyes were oddly sunken, and there were dark, bluish rings around each socket. The corpse's skin was blackened as if by extreme acute oxygen starvation, and was the same shade the other victim's flesh had been.  
"It's possible this is the work of a serial killer." Eddie proposed, curiously standing around to hear Barry's verdict on the dead body.  
"So what's your take, Allen?" Singh prompted. "Is this the same MO as before?"  
"Uh...well, I can't know for certain without examining a sample of the victim's blood, sir, but it does look very similar." The young man stood again. "The staining of the skin is the same, for sure. The blackish tint is similar to cyanosis, but this seems far more advanced than that. I'm still waiting on the full coroner's report for the first victim, and I'm hoping that will tell me more."

"The ME is on the way. The detectives have everything they want, and the photographers are just wrapping up." Another man from their forensics team informed Singh. "Are you finished examining the body, sir?"  
"Is there anything else to see here, Allen?" Singh looked at him with a questioning glance.

  
"I don't think so." Barry shook his head. "But I'm curious as to how both of these victims managed to die from an identical toxin that doesn't match anything in our database. Eddie might be on to something, we could be looking at a potential situ—"  
"Yes, but then that's Detective Thawne's job." Singh interrupted his employee's excited rambling. "Your sole focus here should on finding out what killed this guy, so I'd suggest you head back to the lab and keep at it. Good work everyone."  
The lab director nodded his approval to several forensics personnel who began to bag up the corpse as he walked off. Barry found it rather amusing—because they all knew the medical examiner preferred to bag his own bodies before his crew collected them, but Singh almost always had his team do it instead. He tried not to laugh at how petty it seemed.

_It's gotta be out of spite! Those two have always been competitive with each other._

"Bar! It's for you!" Joe came running over to him, holding out his cell for him to take. Barry glanced up at the detective in surprise for a moment before lifting the device to his ear. "Hello?"

"Barry? It's Caitlin." Her voice sounded a little staticky on the other end of the line. "I think you might want to come down to the labs. That blood you gave us to analyze a few days ago has turned up some really crazy stuff, and Doctor Wells believes we may be dealing with some type of biological warfare agent. And if that's the case, your lab at the precinct is poorly equipped to contain this. How soon can you be here?"

"I'm on my way now."

Barry hung up and stuffed the phone back into Joe's hand. "I gotta run, Dad! That was Caitlin, they found something—bad, from the sound of it. But, hopefully it will tell us what killed these people. See you back at the station!"

West pocketed the cell with a concerned expression. "Just be careful." he warned quietly, feeling the slight breeze as his son streaked away at lighting speed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't my best chapter ever. And it's not as long as I wanted it to be, but the good news is there's still plenty more to come! The BarryWhump is only going to increase from here on out! Oliver is due for another appearance also, so don't worry—he's coming. :-)
> 
> I really can't write while under the influence of cough syrup, and I should probably stop trying to. Thanks to Spuffysky for pointing out my runaway plot bunnies, and fixing my typos! (I hope I caught all my bunnies this time!!) You're the bestest!

"So what are we looking at here?"

Barry was seated at Caitlin's workstation in S.T.A.R. labs, staring through her high-powered electronic microscope at a slide she'd prepared only fifteen minutes ago.

"You are watching a virus smother a group of red blood cells." she replied candidly. "But that's not all it's doing. Watch."

"Okay." He went back to focusing on the strangely-shaped microorganism, fascinated by the way it was attaching itself to a cluster of red blood cells and sucking the oxygen from them with odd needle-like arms that it used to pierce into each of the cells. And when they were emptied of oxygen molecules, the multi-armed virus began filling them with something else—a blackish substance.

"Whoa! What's it doing now??" Barry exclaimed in shock, not believing what was happening right in front of his eyes.

"It's effectively incubating its offspring." Harrison Wells replied quietly from right behind him. Barry jumped a little—startled because he hadn't heard the man approaching him. "We've already analyzed that black fluid you're looking at, and we discovered it can house up to 5 juvenile clones." the physicist went on. "Which then rapidly mature into adult viruses within 48 hours, rupturing the blood cells housing them and enabling them to spread throughout their host unchecked."

Caitlin shook her head. "Disgusting—I know! The organisms aren't easily transmitted, which is good news, but the bad news is, we've never seen a virus like this before and we have no way of stopping or curing it. A lot of people could die if this ends up being a terrorist attack of some sort."

Barry looked up from the microscope, horrified. "This is awful! And what am I going to tell Singh? That his "toxin" is a virus? A virus that breeds and lays eggs in blood cells, no less? He's going to laugh at me!"

"No, he won't." Harrison held out a small file to Barry. "Give him this. It's everything we know about this virus to date so far. Your employer is welcome to conduct his own research of course, but I think he'll find that ours has been quite thorough."

"Thanks, Doctor Wells!" Barry exclaimed gratefully, smiling a little easier now. "Wow! This will definitely help. Thanks to you, too Caitlin! You guys are the best. Tell Cisco I'm sorry I missed him—but I gotta get back to work before Singh realizes I'm still gone!"

"Take care, Barry!" Caitlin called after him, shaking her head at herself because he was already out of the room.

 

* * * *

 

Director Singh was flabbergasted by the official S.T.A.R. labs file his assistant CSI brought to him. He immediately called in the local CDC and presented them with the findings. Within hours, the victims' corpses were being removed from the district morgue, and quarantined elsewhere. Anyone who had come into contact with them were forced to undergo sanitation baths—including the entire Forensics department which created an uproar. The CDC took over the entirety of investigations, and by the next day, Barry was left with no work to do. It seemed there were no crimes being committed unless it was by the strange virus killer, and those cases had been literally pulled off his desk and slipped into a "classified" file. After that, he'd sat around in an empty lab for three hours until Singh took pity on him and sent him home right after lunch.

For awhile everything was kept hush-hush at the precinct with minimal press, but after a fifth victim was discovered a few days later, the captain of the CCPD issued a formal statement, and a warning to civilians—advising them to be cautious and proactive in the community to keep themselves and others safe as there was a distinct possibility that a single killer could be responsible for the recent, disturbing deaths.

With no work to be done in the lab anymore, Barry decided to take a day to go do some private investigating of his own into the virus murders. He nagged Joe down at the police station, who of course humored him and let him read the police reports, he even pulled a few strings to get Barry a copy of the "classified" coroner's report.

The kid had a keen eye for detail, no doubt about it. Right away he noticed that all of the victims had one thing in common. Their individual tox screens had all showed the drug Cefalexin in their systems. It was a common enough antibiotic, but it carried a high risk for causing the body to attack it's own blood cells, weakening them.

_That's a perfect medium for a virus that likes to explode blood cells! Ugh! So creepy!_

He figured if someone were intentionally infecting people with the virus, slipping it into a common medication would be the perfect means of carrying out such a task. So after Joe had left for the precinct the next day, Barry spent the rest of his morning tracking down the closest pharmaceutical supplier for the antibiotic, and found out that it was more local than he'd anticipated. Their secure warehouse had been relocated to a site just two blocks away from the main hub downtown according to his internet search. It was too nearby and tempting for him to resist having a look around, so Barry threw caution—and himself—into the wind, speeding his way out of the suburbs and whizzing into the bustling city that didn't even notice his existence.

He found his target destination easily enough, the place was clearly marked as building 3846, and around it was a rather impressive chain-link fence topped with coils of razor-wire—enough to keep junkies away, but no match for the speedster's atomic-vibration abilities. After briefly scanning the warehouse for outside cameras and finding none, Barry proceeded to phase through the metal barrier, and then flashed over to a small door at the back of the warehouse, hoping to sneak his way inside unnoticed.

He never made it a step farther however, because just as he was getting ready to focus on vibration again, a stranger's voice from right behind interrupted him. "This is private property, and you don't look like you should be here."  
The speech was rough-sounding, with tones laced in a foreign accent—British perhaps—but Barry wasn't very good with accents. Turning around, he looked to see who was addressing him, and found himself staring at a stalwart, muscular man who wore a prominent eyepatch over his right eye. He appeared to be in his late thirties, and his clothes were military-issue.  
The stranger stood a few inches shorter than himself but he didn't seem like the kind of guy who was hampered by height differences. He looked absolutely vicious.

"Who are you?" Barry asked him, on guard and suspicious.

"The name's Slade Wilson." the man replied conversationally. "You can call me Deathstroke if you want. No, I know it's not as catchy as "Captain Cold", but I've never had the pleasure of being named by your colleague, so I made do with what I got."

"Deathstroke? Who calls you that? And how do you know those other names?" Barry demanded, feeling instantly protective at the mention of his colleague, and surprised by Slade's knowledge of their existence.

The dark-haired man smiled in amusement at his success in ruffling the younger man's proverbial feathers. "I'm not sure who calls me that, actually. It's a fairly recent moniker—it only came to my attention just last week after I took care of some business in Star city. You don't know me, but I like to do my homework when I'm on a job, and find out who—or what—I'm going up against. Turns out that the best place to do that is at a bar. I found this neat little roadhouse just outside city limits a few days ago—and met a charming fellow there by the name of Snart.  
I bought a couple rounds for him and his buddies, one thing led to another, and before you know it, I'm hearing all kinds of crazy stories about some kind of speedy vigilante who's taken it upon himself to protect Central city. According to Snart—who described this individual to me as a "troublesome beanpole in red tights"—he strongly suggested to me that I should keep my distance from you. Said you had some really nifty friends, too."

"You don't know anything about my friends!" Barry argued, still feeling fiercely protective.

The other man shrugged, "So I don't know all about your nerdy science guy who gave Captain Cold his nickname on purpose—and his weapon by accident then?"  
Smiling at Barry's momentary speechlessness, he paused for a moment, and then went on talking.  
"Of course, I was repeatedly warned that I'd most likely regret picking a fight with you. It was funny though, I got the impression that this Snart character was far more concerned with your well-being than with mine. It was almost touching. But, I told him I'd take my chances—it's kind of my thing now.

Barry retreated a few steps from the strange man, clenching his jaw in anger. "How did you even know I was here?" he demanded, wishing he'd decided to put the suit on today instead of his regular clothes.

"Oh don't be thick, love!" Slade exclaimed impatiently. "I watched you breaking through the fence on the security camera you didn't know existed—because I'm not an idiot! I work the security detail here because I have full access to hundreds of medications—nobody bothers me, and so far it's been the perfect cover! I've been planning this grand scheme of mine for quite some time now, and it's not like I haven't been expecting you—or someone else to show up and try to stop me! I have to say though, I'm a bit disappointed you aren't wearing the outfit I heard so much about."  
Here he paused, and shot him a one-over glance of appraisal that left Barry feeling more than a little uncomfortable.  
"Your pal Leonard seemed to think it "hugged those curves in all the right places"." Wilson went on with another grin. "But...in hindsight, he probably didn't mean for me to hear that part—after his fourth drink I think I was sitting closer than he realized."

_Oh, that's just ridiculous!! This guy is a total ass. No way Snart said that!_

"What do you want, Slade?" Barry snapped. "You've killed seven people already! I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else!"

"Oh, I've killed way more folks than that, love." the other man grinned. "There are at least one hundred unsuspecting people in your city right now who are going to die within 48 hours no matter what you do. But as for what I want, don't worry—I don't care about you or what you are. I'm not even that interested in killing off your city. I just want Oliver Queen. Seems he's a man in the wind these days. I've been searching for two weeks now, and not a trace of him has turned up."  
He paused again, focusing his singular gaze on the man in front of him. "I was starting to get a little aggravated, to be honest. But while I was sitting at the bar learning all about you and your friends the other night, it was kindly brought to my attention that you and Queen are something like allies. So, I'm guessing that makes you friends?"

When Barry didn't answer, Slade kept on talking. "Sadly for you, I'm in the business of laying all of Mr. Queen's friends to rest right now. But...I like to think that I'm a reasonable man. Tell me where I can find that green-hooded backstabber, and I'll let you live."

Barry shrugged unhelpfully. "Why do you think I have any idea where he's at? I don't exactly keep him on a leash!" he retorted.

"Is that right?" Wilson replied, barking out a harsh laugh at Barry's choice of words. "But I'm sure he'd like to keep you on one." he added with a disturbing sneer on his lips that morphed into another darkly amused grin when the younger man paled just a fraction of a shade lighter and took another backwards step.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Oliver goes _where_ he wants— _when_ he wants!" Barry said impatiently, because he wasn't lying, he really didn't have a clue where the billionaire was, and he was growing tired of the interrogation. "I haven't seen him in at least four days!"

"Yeah, you might be telling me the truth right now, but I think you can do better than that." Slade declared coldly, his single black eye trained menacingly on the forensics expert in front of him. "How about where you saw him last? And which direction was he headed?"

Barry said nothing at first, digging the back of his heel into the ground in frustration, wishing it were Slade's face under his foot.  
"Even if I knew, I—"

"I know." The other man interrupted with an ironic laugh. "You wouldn't tell me. Can't say I expected anything less. But it is unfortunate that we couldn't arrive at an agreement of some sort. I actually find you rather fascinating, and easy on the eyes, if I'm not lying. Killing you really would be a last resort—so I'm going to give you one last chance to talk. Where's Oliver?"  
He stepped a few inches closer to Barry, but the speedster refused to back up now. "Go screw yourself, Slade. And come up with a better nickname while you're at it—yours is crap!"

"Well, like I told you—I had to improvise." the dark-haired man answered him with another roughly amused sound. "It's my first time being... _this_."  
He had been holding one of his hands behind his back, but now he slowly brought it to the front of his body, revealing a very long, razor-sharp machete clenched in his meaty fist.

"If I were you, I'd start running about two blocks that way, love. I think I saw your detective pal and his lady-friend out for a stroll there about a half-hour ago—and you're going to need some help."  
"What are you talking about?" Barry snorted in disdain while shaking his head, visibly offended at the assumption that he was a cowardly weakling. "I'm not running away from you!" he declared in defiance. "So you got a knife? Cool. I don't need backup, I have super speed! Wanna see?"

"Sure." Slade made a regretful, yet confident sound, and readjusted his eyepatch just a hair before taking a half-step back. "Bring it."

_Pssh...little man, you haven't seen me run._

Barry narrowed his eyes in concentration and took off in a blur, aiming his path for directly behind Deathstroke. But several things happened within the fraction of a second that it took for him to get within striking distance of the man.  
Slade didn't guard his front like most people would have. Instead, he spun around in place, so that he was facing Barry's direction now, and simultaneously swung his heavy-duty blade upwards to intercept the overeager lad who'd planned to catch him off guard.

_WHAT?? How'd he move like that? Holy crap!_

Barry was traveling much too fast to change his trajectory—and although he managed to twist most of his body out of the way mid-air, Slade's machete still made brief contact with the upper left side of his throat as he streaked by, narrowly missing a collision into the other man. A light graze was all the cut felt like at first, and there was hardly any pain, but Barry knew something was wrong when he paused his speed for a moment and felt something hot blooming down from his collar to the front of his shirt.

_Ohh. Not good. Okay, this is really bad..._

The speedster clapped a hand over his bleeding neck and tried not to freak out when the vital fluid gushed through his fingers as if they weren't even there. He looked up to see his opponent standing just a few feet away wearing a grimly pleased smile on his swarthy features.

"Aw, don't feel bad, sweetheart." Slade chuckled wickedly. "No one's been fast enough to get away from that move so far—not even you." He sheathed his blade with a casual shrug. "I estimate you've got about five minutes before you bleed out. If you hurry, you might actually make it back into town."

 

* * * *

 

It was Eddie's day off, and Iris had taken one of her many accumulated vacation days to join him. The weather was balmy, with just the right amount of sun-to-breeze ratio, and they were out on the town to enjoy some of the great local food for lunch. They'd ended up at Iris's favorite cafe—naturally, but Eddie couldn't deny that the menu was delicious and the atmosphere had been pleasant, even if it wasn't the steakhouse he'd originally had in mind. In fact, the whole day was going just fantastically up until they were getting ready to leave. Iris had excused herself to the restroom where she stood fixing her hair and retouching her lipstick in front of a rather ornate and flawlessly clean mirror.  
Eddie was patiently waiting for her back at the pastry counter near the check-out line (because she HAD to have bear-claws) when Barry appeared a few feet away from him, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. He wasn't wearing his Flash outfit—just his regular clothes, and he had his hand pressed tightly over his neck but blood was rapidly spilling through his slender fingers.

Surprised and alarmed at the sight, Eddie quickly dashed over to him, with his hands extended in genuine concern. "Allen!!" he exclaimed, trying to catch ahold of his arm to keep him from falling. Blue eyes looked up at him in confusion for a moment before the younger man suddenly flinched away, mistaking the worry on Thawne's face for anger. "No, don't hit me!" he gasped, stumbling backwards, unsteady from the hasty momentum of his own retreat. "I'm—I said I was sorry—" Barry couldn't keep himself upright any longer, and within seconds he collapsed onto his knees at Thawne's feet, with a single arm raised instinctively over his head to shield off the blow he felt sure was coming.

The entire restaurant grew silent for a moment as the patrons stopped talking and eating as they gradually realized there was a situation happening nearby. A few people got up from their tables and quickly walked over to see what was going on. The off-duty detective himself looked utterly appalled as the color slowly drained out of his face while he stared down at his girlfriend's best friend cowering on floor beneath him.

_Aw, what? That was ages ago! How can he think I'm still pissed?!_

"No, I'm not—I wasn't going to hit you!" Eddie exclaimed in shock—madly wishing now he'd never lost his temper that day. "You're hurt—you're bleeding bad! Let me see!" Dropping to his knees, he reached out slowly to gently grasp Barry's shoulder. When he didn't pull away, Eddie moved on to examine the source of all the crimson adorning his friend's shirt. He carefully lifted the blood-drenched collar away from Barry's throat and let out a sound of horror when he saw the gaping knife wound marring his neck, and gauged the amount of scarlet fluid still steadily spurting from it.

"Oh, my god." was all he managed to say.

"Eddie...please." Barry had fixed him with a heart-wrenchingly pleading gaze as unmistakable tears spilled out from behind his long, wispy lashes. "Help me."

_Oh shit! Oh no. No, no no!_

Thawne lunged forward and caught the drooping man in his arms right as he passed out, keeping him from hitting his head on the floor. "Hey, can I get some help over here?" he shouted to the woman behind the pastry counter. "Call an ambulance! And bring me some clean towels! I need to stop this bleeding!"

Almost everyone in the cafe had crowded around the two men on the floor in a concerned and curious circle, and Eddie wished Iris would get out of the restroom already. "I need everyone to stand back please!" he called out firmly as he cradled his unconscious friend against his chest and pillowed his head in the crook of his arm, ignoring the blood that instantly stained his sleeve. "Easy, I got you. It's okay, you're gonna be okay." he whispered softly, stroking Barry's cheek because he didn't know what else to do—and he was completely unfamiliar with the way his hands were shaking now. To say he felt dumbfounded at how somebody could do such a cruel, barbaric thing to a guy like Barry was an understatement, but beneath the shock, he realized he was also feeling something else. Rage. Barry was essentially Iris's brother—he was family, and despite their initial differences, Eddie had grown extremely fond of the young man. After all, it was hard to dislike or stay mad at someone like Barry! He was just too...angelic.

As she was walking out of the ladies' room, Iris scanned the cafe for slowly, looking for Eddie's location. Halfway across the dining floor, she saw him down by the pastry counter, kneeling on the carpet while holding a limp Barry Allen in his arms. There was a throng of worried cafe-goers who were milling around them in a staggered group, and immediately her heart fell into the pit of her stomach as she rushed forward towards them, feeling as if she were moving in slow motion somehow. "BARRY!!" she screamed his name, panic filling her voice as she noticed the sickening amount of blood covering her best friend's clothes, and her eyes focused on the red-soaked towel Eddie had firmly pressed against his neck.

"Oh my god, what happened??" she sobbed, pushing past several onlookers as she joined her boyfriend on the floor, and tried to get a look at the wound he'd quickly covered up with a fresh towel.  
Eddie gently moved Barry out of Iris's reach and quickly shook his head at her. "I don't know. He passed out before I could ask, but, trust me, you really don't want to see that." he whispered. "I got him—don't worry. There's already an ambulance on the way, I just need you to call your dad for me, okay?"

_I can't tell her. She can't see that—it would kill her. He'll start healing any minute now, I'm sure! I've seen him do it!_

Thawne applied a few more ounces of steady pressure to the pale, fragile throat beneath his hand—being careful to keep Barry's head elevated against his shoulder now, and he breathed a low sigh of relief when the blood flow finally began to let up.

_There we go. Atta boy, Barry! You got this. You're gonna be okay._

Iris was a fountain of tears when the EMTs loaded Barry into the back of the ambulance, but they let her ride along anyway. Eddie stayed behind to meet Joe and make an official police report on the incident.

Back at the hospital, once the ER medics had assessed the damage to the young man who came in covered with his own blood, they were puzzled to find the slashed artery in his neck had already healed, and the surface wound was beginning to close up on its own. With little else to do at that point, the doctors bandaged the remaining injured area on his throat, hooked him up to several bags of O positive, and left him alone in ICU to recover. Iris stayed in his room of course, petting his hair lovingly, and squeezing his hands gently within her own while she waited for him to wake up. Her overwhelming relief at hearing that he was going to be all right kept her from asking too many questions as to how. It didn't quite add up in her brain, but in the moment all she really cared about was the fact that he was still alive.

She stared at his cherubic sleeping face, and smoothed her fingers down his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. "I'm so sorry, Barry! Dad and Eddie...they'll get whoever did this to you—I promise!"

 

 TBC

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the most action-packed chapter, but it explores a rather tumultuous unfolding of events. Barry takes an extreme risk in the hopes of saving Central city, but only time will tell if he and his team have made the right choice. Ooooh, the suspense! Just kidding...but I don't want to give away too many details. Enjoy the read!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, you guys! I am so sorry it's taken me such an unforgivably long time to get this chapter written and posted! Thanks for all your kind words and ongoing enthusiasm in the meantime for my story, I can't tell you how excited I am that you all have enjoyed it so far! I promise not to wait so long before adding the next installment! Also, I do have two awesome betas, but since I've taken forever to get this chapter out, I decided not to delay it further! I've beta'd it myself (risky I know) so all mistakes and utter nonsense are solely my own fault here! Love and hugs!

 

\------------------------------------------

 

After receiving the frenzied phone call from Iris, Joe had left the precinct in a panicky rush and he arrived in Barry's hospital room just a few minutes before his son woke up. When he first walked in, a nurse who was making her exit from the doorway didn't step aside fast enough for his liking, and West barely managed to keep from pushing her out of the way as he went up to the Barry’s bed and joined his daughter in gazing down at the young man lying there.

The transfusion IV was still in Barry's arm, and the color hadn't fully returned to his face yet. Joe couldn't stand to see him looking so pale again. He reached down and laid one dark hand lightly on his son's cheek, and stroked the skin beneath his thumb, watching in relief as blue eyes slowly blinked open. "Bar? Can you hear me?" he prompted, gently squeezing Barry's shoulder now.

"Dad?" Squinting up at Joe in confusion, Barry felt a little disoriented at waking up in a strange place, and his unfocused glance traveled aimlessly around the room for a moment as he tried to get his bearings. "Iris? You're here?" he paused when his eyes finally landed on the anxious journalist hovering nearby.

"Yes, Barry. It's us." she managed a shaky smile, watching in concern as he reached up and buried his face in his slender hands, groaning. "Ugh...my head is killing me."

"Do you remember what happened to you, son?" Joe asked quietly, looking over at his daughter to gauge her reaction.  
She had started rubbing Barry's other shoulder soothingly, and was trying unsuccessfully to control her tears as a torrent of words began to tumble from her lips. "Oh, my god, please tell us what happened!" Her voice was tight with worry as she went on talking. "You scared the life out of me, Barry! When I saw you in the cafe all passed out in Eddie’s arms—I just couldn't breathe! I thought we were going to lose you! I've never seen so much blood on you before...."  
She shook her head and took a deep breath, visibly trying to regain control of her emotions. "Please tell us who did this!"  
For a moment, Barry just stared mutely at Iris, watching her heartbroken face in complete bewilderment.

  
_What the heck is she talking about? How did I even get here?_

  
Then it hit him. All the memories came rushing back in a flood—the warehouse, Slade's evil plot, and a machete to the neck—all of it.  
"I have to get to S.T.A.R. labs right away!" he gasped, immediately sitting up while attempting to pull the IV needle out of his arm.  
"Wait! Don't do that!" Iris gasped in horror, trying to stop him but failing to grab his hand in time. Blood welled up from the empty puncture site and began trickling down the inside of his elbow.  
"Whoa! Slow down there!" Joe stepped in and gently caught both of his wrists to restrain him. "You're not going anywhere in your condition!"  
"Joe, I have to!" Barry argued stubbornly, still struggling to free himself. “Something terrible is about to happen, and I have to stop it!”

The monitors over his bed began beeping loudly as his blood pressure and heart rate steadily climbed.  
"Oh my god! Is he okay, dad?” The frantic tone in Iris’s voice suggested she thought otherwise, but Joe didn't have an answer for her in the moment. He just shrugged helplessly while he fought to keep Barry from leaping off the bed.  
Iris frowned. “I'm gonna go get the nurse!" she exclaimed, jumping up abruptly. She ran out, letting the door swung shut behind her. Relieved that his daughter was exiting the scene—Joe made no move to stop her as he quickly grabbed both of his son's shoulders, and pushed him forcibly back down on the pillows.  
"Bar!" He shook him a little, trying to get his attention. "Calm down! Take a deep breath, look at me—deep breath—now tell me, what's going on?"

Barry inhaled and exhaled obediently first, and then turned frantic blue eyes up at the detective who was gazing down at him in concern. "I don't even know where to start, dad!" he exclaimed, a frantic note creeping in his voice. "I went digging through all those police reports you got for me, and this morning I managed to find a common link between all of the victims. It was their medication, some antibiotic called Cefalexin! I discovered where the virus is coming from and who's behind it! Everyone who's doctor prescribed those antibiotics are receiving them straight from the distribution facility right here in the city—and they're going to get infected with the virus when they do! There's no telling how many infected doses are already out there in the hospitals and pharmacies!"

He paused to take a breath and shook his head. "I also had a run-in with the guy responsible for it—a real ass who calls himself Slade Wilson." Joe cocked an eyebrow at that, but Barry just went on. "Yeah, apparently he conned his way onto a security detail at the warehouse, and he's already tainted all the antibiotics he managed to gain access to! He told me that hundreds of people in Central City are going to die, and that this is all part of some grand revenge he's got planned for Oliver Queen."

Joe held up his hand briefly to halt him. "Queen? Wait, how does he know that you and Queen are connected?"

"Snart." Barry shook his head in irritation. “I guess they met in a bar outside of town. Leonard had more information than I gave him credit for. Slade knew exactly what to expect from me.” he whispered, reaching up to feel the side of his neck where a crisp bandage still covered the flesh there. "When I wouldn't tell him anything about Oliver, he pretty much told me to get lost or die. I didn't figure he'd actually beat me, and that's why I didn't run or call for backup. In hindsight, I guess that was pretty dumb."

  
" _Pretty dumb_..." Joe echoed, anger deepening his voice as he shook his head in disbelief at his son. "That's an understatement! So you found tghis Slade guy at the warehouse?"  
Barry hung his head a little and nodded. "But I didn't know he was going to be there! The place looked completely empty—that's the only reason why I even..." his voice trailed off as he stared down at his sheets and began toying distractedly with them.  
"Why you even WHAT?" West quickly prompted with a frown, raising his eyebrows in a stern, questioning expression at the younger man's sudden hesitation.

"I used my speed to phase through the perimeter fence." Barry finally admitted in a sheepish voice, refusing to meet the detective's gaze. "And before you go off on me, I know that was trespassing—but I swear to you,  I didn't see any cameras or guards! Somehow Slade found me before I saw him. He told me he'd seen me breaking in on a hidden security cam."  
"He saw WHAT NOW?" Joe hissed, dropping his hands in shock as he stepped back a foot or two from Barry's bed. "So wait, what I'm hearing is that not only does this homicidal freak know who you are—but your face and your abilities were also seen by a camera is that what you're telling me? I can't believe I'm even saying this, but why didn't you just put the damn suit on, Barry?!"

Iris walked back in just then, followed by both a nurse and doctor. "What's going on?" she wondered in a low voice, looking at her father's irate countenance, and then over at her best friend's downcast eyes. Joe just shook his head at her and moved himself out of the way as the doctor walked up Barry's bed.

"Mr. Allen, you gave us quite a scare in the emergency room!” the gray headed man announced as he took a quick look at the dressing on Barry’s neck. “Nice to see you're awake. How are you feeling right now?"  
“I guess I feel okay.” the young man muttered, not looking up.

  
West gave his son a pointed look over the physician’s head. "We'll be finishing this discussion later." he whispered firmly.

  
* * * *

 

Detective Thawne showed up at the hospital about a half hour after Joe had gotten there. He'd had to finalize a few details for the police report he wrote up to file for the incident, and per his girlfriend's request, he'd also stopped off at his nearby apartment to bring Barry a clean shirt to go home in since his was drenched in blood and currently wadded up in a hospital disposal canister.   
It was a kind gesture on Eddie's part, but despite the fact that together—he and Iris were nearly fawning over him now, Barry felt completely ill at ease. Sure, it was pretty awkward to have to wear your best friend's boyfriend’s clothes, but even that didn't compare to how painfully uncomfortable ride back home with Joe was.  
Barry hadn't seen him that angry in a long time, and he found the detective's stony silence unsettling. West didn't speak a word until they were already pulling up into the driveway back at home, and then it was only because Barry had looked over at his impassive face a little hesitantly, and cleared his throat.  
"I still need to talk to Wells and Caitlin, dad. And I gotta find Oliver. He's the guy Slade wants."

"You aren't going to do anything but get your skinny ass inside the house, and park it on the couch." Joe snapped in reply as he pulled the keys out of the ignition more forcefully than necessary and aggressively released the latch on his seat belt. "I'm not done talking to you about this, and you're lucky I'm not hauling you off to the precinct in handcuffs!"

Barry's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "What? Wait, are you mad?" A note of hurt crept into his voice. "How can you still be mad at me? I just found a city-wide threat—the contaminated warehouse, and the asshole responsible for it, and you're threatening to put _me_ in cuffs?"

"Dammit, Barry!” Joe exploded all of a sudden, slamming his fist down on the steering wheel hard enough to visibly surprise the younger man. "You're not a cop! What the hell were you even thinking?? It's NOT your job to go field investigating our police cases, especially not when breaking and entering is part of your process! Since I don't actually have Slade’s signed admission of guilt here in front of me—that makes YOU the criminal, and it puts me in a very difficult position! Why didn't you just call me before you went out there today?" he demanded, still scolding his son as they both started to exit the vehicle. "I was sitting at my desk bored all afternoon—I would have jumped at the first chance to get some action!" West lunged up out of his seat and let the car door slam shut loudly behind him. He was absolutely infuriated with the younger man. It was that inexplicable feeling of rage that overwhelms protective parents after they've nearly had the life scared out of them by some foolish stunt their kid pulled.

Not fully grasping the depths of his adoptive father’s current emotions, Barry trailed after him into the house, wearing a woeful expression. "But I found out what's infecting these people and where it's coming from!” he argued persistently. “We have a chance to stop it now! That's more than—"

"I don't care who or what you found—how could you put us through another nightmare like that?!" Joe's voice had almost reached maximum volume again. "There's only one of you in this world, Barry Allen—and I can't lose you! Our family needs you, and this city needs you!” Here he paused, throwing his hands up for a moment in frustrated defeat. “So why do I get the impression you don't remotely care about that, huh?” he went on. “It's not like you ever stop to think about how your actions are going to affect the rest of us, do you?"

"What?” Barry was shocked by the words he was hearing. “No! I do care! Everything I did was to keep Central city out of harm’s way!" he countered defensively. Upset and exhausted, he wasn't feeling up to suffering through his dad's speech of righteous indignation. He stared into Joe’s deep brown eyes and saw the worry there. He sighed and shook his head. "Look, I might be able to shake that virus, but no way you, Iris, or anybody else I know survives catching it! I just wanted to keep everyone safe."

Joe frowned and looked away, trying to mask his smoldering disapproval. "Then you should have called it in to the CDC first, or—”  
"The CDC wasn't doing anything except tying everyone else's hands, and we don't have time to wait around!" Barry cut in, ignoring the raised eyebrow he got from West. "They obviously aren't going to help us find who did this, the only thing they care about is all the publicity they're getting now! Why are you so pissed off? I did some research, followed a hunch, and I found the bad guy—isn't that what you do all the time?”  
Joe clenched his jaw, and took a deep breath, trying not to lose his grip and seize the obtuse young man by the throat in anger.

"Oh, sure. When I think I have a lead, I tell Eddie about it...because he's my partner. And then we both go check it out, together—as detectives—because that's OUR JOB!!" he shouted again, grabbing Barry roughly by the shoulders and shaking him as he uttered the last two words of his sentence.

"You had no business doing what you did. I'm disappointed in you, son. You're smarter than that, I know you are! I just can't understand why you keep throwing yourself headlong into danger like this!"

“Okay! I get it! Please, just stop yelling at me." Barry suddenly cried as tears rapidly welled up in his blue eyes until they spilled over. "I’m sorry I took off without calling you first! I really _am_ sorry! But, do you think I had the time of my life out there today? I mean, in case you forgot, I'm the one who got a machete to the  throat—it wasn't on purpose—and I think most people would say I learned my lesson!” He stepped back and hung his head, staring at the pattern on the floor. “You don't have to keep scolding."

West’s temper was instantly cooled by his son's sudden outburst of emotion, and his stern expression softened  
quickly into one of remorse as he watched the younger man turning away to hide his face.  
"Hey..." he whispered, reaching out to gently pull the distressed speedster up against his chest, wrapping him close in strong arms. "Okay, all right..." he went on in a soft tone. "Look, I know you just went through a really frightening ordeal today, and I'm not making light of that. And I'm sure you didn't leave the house this morning planning to give me a heart attack. But you gotta start thinking these things through, son. There are a lot of people who are depending on you."  
Barry's weeping was muffled in Joe's shoulder now as he clung desperately to his dad, completely unable in the moment to control his tears. Feeling rather guilty, the detective started rubbing soothing circles across his back, trying to calm him back down. Barry wasn't much of a crier, so whenever his waterworks got this thoroughly started it was usually because of something traumatic. And since Joe was such a sucker for the kid being in distress, he couldn't bear the sight or sound of it, and he sure as heck couldn't handle being the cause of it. "Shhh...shh, come on now..." Holding his son a little tighter now, the detective curled his fingers gently in tufts of silky brown hair. "Shhhh now, baby..." he crooned, dropping a few light kisses on the top of Barry's tousled head. "I’m sorry I got so angry with you earlier—I was just mad because you scared me. I'm done yelling now, I promise. You know I love you like my own, right? I just want you to be safe."

“I know.” Barry sniffed. “And I  screwed up. I promise you next time I'll call for backup when I'm in a situation...well, before I get into one...”

“Good.That's what I like to hear.” Joe slowly pulled away from his son and patted him gently on the back of his head before grabbing him out a Kleenex from a box on the coffee table.  
"Blow your nose." he instructed, guiding him by the arm into the kitchen. Barry followed him without any protest, wearing a rather exhausted and subdued expression. “What are you doing?” he asked, watching as the older man began searching through the cabinets.

  
“I’m gonna make you some lunch since you skipped yours, and you're going to eat it.”

  
Barry rolled his eyes briefly. “I'm not a little kid. You don't have to stay here and fuss over me like a mother hen.” he grumbled quietly as he slumped his exhausted body down into a dining room chair.  
“You're still the family kid, don't fool yourself.” Joe quirked an eyebrow teasingly at him. “No getting out of that. And since you won't look after yourself properly—yes, I DO have to fuss over you. Now, no more arguing. Grab me a couple of plates, will you?”

 

  
* * * *

  
Joe hadn't been joking around with lunch. He’d fixed enough food to feed at least four people, and when he was satisfied that his son had eaten enough, he'd made him go take a nap. The sky outside was already getting dark by the time Barry woke up, and when he went down the stairs to get a snack from the kitchen, he was surprised to see Joe still at home. “Hey, Dad! Don't you have to be at work?”

  
“You think making sure you don't leave my house without supervision isn't work?” West countered from his seated position on the couch in the den as his son came walking over. He set his laptop down and looked up at Barry with a small grin. “You needed the rest, and besides, I'm pulling an all-nighter at the station later—I’ve already called in. Oh, and I also spoke to Harrison Wells while you were asleep. He says they've made progress on a cure. I told him I'd be bringing you by as soon as you woke up. And yeah, he knows EXACTLY what kind of fiasco you pulled this afternoon. So do Cisco and Caitlin.”

  
“Aw, what? Seriously, you told on me—again?” Barry pouted. Really pouted.  
Joe raised his eyebrow for the like the fifth time that day, but the expression on his son’s face was so comically juvenile now that he couldn't keep from laughing.  
“Of course I did.” he chuckled, looking away to hide his amusement. “I said I was done yelling at you about it—but I never said I would keep anyone else from doing the yelling. The way I see it, you're in for at least several earfuls. I'm sure Cisco will be in your corner as usual, but not the other two.”  
“Great, dad. Thanks. That's just great.” Barry grimaced, knowing his father had probably guessed right. Wells and Caitlin were definitely going to have words for him.  
The amused detective got up out of his comfy seat on the couch with an unremorseful smile and grabbed his jacket off of a nearby armchair. “You're welcome. Get your stuff. Let's go.” He motioned towards the front door. “I'm not letting you speed off anywhere by yourself tonight. I'm going to drop you off at the labs and then make my way to the precinct. And, Barry?”

“Yeah, dad?”

“No matter what you do, promise me you'll be careful this time.”

“I promise. I won't be alone.” he nodded and smiled reassuringly.

“All right. I trust you, son.” Joe answered quietly as he carefully did up the zipper on his jacket and then moved briskly towards the door. “Let's go. You have a city to save, remember?”

  
••••••••••••••••••

  
Barry was both relieved and grateful when Joe only dropped him off in the S.T.A.R. labs parking lot, and didn't follow him inside. He'd already figured out that he really wouldn't want the passively smug detective around if and when Caitlin went off on him; and in fact, he felt almost apprehensive now as he walked down the corridor that led to the Flash Cave.

  
_What if they are all mad at me? I guess I did basically jeopardize our entire operation. I deserve their disappointment._

   
“Barry! Oh, thank goodness you're all right!” Caitlin exclaimed as soon as she saw him. “Joe told us what happened! Are you feeling okay?!” She ran towards and wrapped him in a hug without waiting for him to answer.

“Yeah, I'm fine! Totally okay.” He hugged her back and smiled. “I thought you were gonna be angrier than that—”  
“I AM angry!” Caitlin interrupted as she reached up and lightly smacked her palm into the side of his head. “You could have been killed! You're so lucky Eddie was there to help you!”

“Ow.” Barry whined, rubbing his head in an exaggerated gesture of discomfort. “Abuse in the workplace—really? I'm sure that's a violation of...something.”

“So what was that guy like? The one who's trying to kill us all with a virus.” Cisco asked as he came walking over. “And sorry, but how did you not beat him?! You're the FREAKING FLASH for crying out loud!”

“Cisco!” Caitlin frowned in disapproval at him. “I'm sure Barry did his best! We haven't even heard his side of the story yet, so how about we just focus on the fact that he's alive and well, okay?”

Cisco quickly hung his heads  
“Sorry man, I swear I didn't mean for that to sound so horrible!” the young engineer quickly apologized, looking back up at his friend with a look of concern in his dark eyes now. “I am really glad you're not dead! But how the heck—with your speed, how did he get you?”

The speedster shook his head. "I didn't think he would be a threat, and I underestimated him. I guess he was expecting that.

"Barry, I think you should try to be more careful." Wells suddenly spoke from right behind them. He spoke gently, but with a firm undertone. "It's almost as if you think you're invincible—you're not, and that's a fact you're going to have to accept. You can't keep speeding headlong into danger without telling your friends or family! That's insane, and no one here expects you to save Central city single-handedly. You need help! Now, you know that my sole focus here at S.T.A.R labs lies primarily in developing your talents. My goal has always been to help you discover and unlock your true potential, Barry, but I can't do that if you're dead."

"I can't believe you're giving me grief, too! I already had my tongue-lashing from Joe." the young man protested, looking so woebegone that Caitlin burst out laughing.  “I think Joe wanted us to tongue-lash you some more.” she snickered under her breath.

“Having said that…” Harrison tried to mask the smile that had momentarily twitched on his lips by quickly straightening his face as he went on in a more somber voice. “You weren't wrong to be concerned for the wellbeing of your city. We ARE facing a crisis, and actions will have to be taken.” He gestured up at a brightly lit computer console. “Fortunately for us, we are already aware of how this new virus functions and replicates, and that's given us a leg up on this whole operation.”

Barry suddenly wore an astounded expression. “What? But how'd you figure it out so fast?!”  
Wells’ mirthless expression darkened just a bit at the unintentional implication from the younger man. Of course, Barry noticed that, freaked out a little and quickly attempted to explain what he'd meant. “N-not that you couldn't—I didn't mean it that way, you guys are the best at what you do—!” He cut himself off short as Cisco started laughing somewhere behind him. “Dude, relax!” the engineer chuckled. “Did you forget about GIDEON? She analyzed all the data for us and she's formulated a cure for the virus! I mean we helped a little too, preparing sample slides and all those weird-smelling solutions...but uh…I guess she did basically do all the work.”

“And more to the point…” Harrison continued with a raised eyebrow at the young engineer when he'd finally stopped speaking. “We are fairly certain that the remedy GIDEON has presented us with will be a success. We just need your cooperation to continue.”

“Um, okay.” Barry's frown was a puzzled one. “What exactly do you mean by that?”  
The room had grown strangely tense, and when Wells looked away for a moment, the speedster glanced over to the others and realized that none of them were going to meet his gaze. “What's going on?” he asked, looking from Caitlin back to the man in the wheelchair.

“The cure involves you, Barry.” Caitlin answered gently from just behind his shoulder. We need to use your blood.”

“My blood? That's all?” Relief was audible in the young man's voice. “Sure, take all you want.” he said, starting to roll up the sleeve on his suit.

“I think you misunderstand, Barry.” Harrison spoke softly. “We need to utilize your blood while it's still inside your body. Due to your changed physical state, you are the only viable option for creating the necessary antibodies to fight the virus, Only your immune system will create them before the virus can overrun your body. If any of us tried the same, we’d die. But I have faith in GIDEON. Besides the virus, she's analyzed samples of your blood and various hormones and chemicals you produce as well, and her statistics continue to add up. Only you can save our city, Barry.”

“Well, I don't know how this will work, but of course! Count me in.” The speedster didn't even hesitate to step up, and that brought a fond, proud smile to Caitlin’s mouth as she turned to look at him. “Wonderful, Barry. You are doing an incredible thing for humanity. I'll explain how this process will work.” She took his arm and guided him to a comfortable chair. “Have a seat and try to relax…” the brunette scientist murmured with a reassuring smile. “Everything will be just fine.”  
She pulled on a pair of pale green latex gloves and lifted a black tray off of a nearby medical trolley. On it was a paper towel and on top of that, lay a gleaming syringe.  
“Here's an active dose of the live virus.” Caitlin announced, picking the instrument up. “Once I inject you with this serum, you may experience some mild, flu-like side effects, but nothing else. Within 48 hours your blood will contain the peak amount of antibodies we are looking for, and at that point, I'll draw several pints from you, and Doctor Wells will assist me in isolating and synthesizing the antiviral properties in your blood so that we can create a vaccine to both cure and prevent infection from the virus.”

Barry winced a little as the needle she'd held poised over his vein suddenly pierced into it. “Well, all that doesn't sound so bad.” he finally said, trying to avoid looking at the needle in his arm. Now was not the time to go all weak-kneed and queasy. “You guys sure this will work?”

  
“If it doesn't, nothing will.” Harrison answered as Caitlin slowly pushed the plunger down, gradually injecting the contents of the syringe into Barry's bloodstream. “I guess we'll have to wait and see.” the speedster replied a little nervously.

  
“Relax. Go for a walk, read a book, train here in the lab, do something you enjoy.” Caitlin instructed him with another smile as she pressed a small bandaid over the tiny puncture mark she'd made. “Don't worry about this, Barry, your immune system is indestructible! Now, I'll see you in two days!” She playfully shooed him off the chair. “But stay in touch.” she added quickly. “If something does go amiss with you, I want to be the first to know, all right?”

“I promise.” Barry turned to look at Wells. “Are we keeping this operation a secret? Does Joe know?”

  
“For now, no one can know. Promise me that.” The older man answered quietly. “We can't risk being compromised—not now.”

  
“I understand.” Barry felt a sudden heaviness in his chest. “See you in two days then.”

  
                      TBC


End file.
